Studies

Incomplete thoughts and irreverent tales of art, cinema, design, food, love, media, millennials, music, nostalgia, objects, photos, politics, spaces, travel, and wit. You can also enjoy it as an XML/RSS feed.


Wtfcats.

What, I exclaimed. The British girl in the white sundress walking ahead of me turned around at my response and commented, ‘That is the most random thing I’ve ever seen.’

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Every day is a song for a holiday.

I had tried, or I should say, I am still trying and writing and researching and conversing and attempting to construct a narrative that somehow casts the activities of my European vacations and the months between as myth and metaphor, a microcosm of the improvisational information architecture, anomalies of sociology, and decline of western civilization in the first decade of the 21st century. Given the pretentious mess that promises to be, this chapter of my pop-music autobiography may be the closest thing to a straight narrative of my week’s sojourn in Brussels and Paris, 11-19 November 2006, I might extract from that unwieldy text.

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An accurate description of some of the women I’ve dated, found on a tub of crème fraîche.

Found on a 200 mL tub of Tesco Finest crème fraîche.

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Before the crude incursion of flypaper.

Before the crude incursion of flypaper. Wall textures at Oxford Circus tube station.

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Ice cream for breakfast, again.

Ice cream for breakfast, again. Palapa flan ice cream, banana, wild honey, grated Scharffen Berger 99% cacao, grated pecans, mint garnish.

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Elisabeth.

Elisabeth. Pedestal of a statue near the Palais des Congres.

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We may be tiny, but we’re two of a kind.

I’ve been trying to quantify what it means to be older, to understand the process by which one adapts the tropes of the aged. I wonder if an elder conscience is one that no longer adjudicates between what is right and what is wrong but between what can be forgiven and what can not be forgiven, if wisdom is the knowledge of how much injustice one can inflict and withstand and experience the consequence of inflicting and withstanding injustice. It is a fact of our physiology that we become more attuned to bitterness and less attracted to sweetness as we age, but in what science is the bond forged between idealism (or wonderment or creativity or innocence) and saccharinity? Is cynicism the olive of attitude, that briny defense mechanism we only grow to appreciate once we can suck it out of the bottom of a cocktail glass emptied of gin?

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Ice cream for breakfast.

Left: Häagen-Dazs vanilla, Bosc pear, candied walnuts, chocolate syrup, one strawberry, one Perugina Baci, shaved Scharrfen Berger 70% and crumbled pistachios. Right: Häagen-Dazs strawberry cheesecake, strawberries (¾ pound), shaved Scharrfen Berger 70% and crumbled pistachios.

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Search Studies

I’d never shown it to you.

2008 December 25

Though I completed this chapter of my pop music autobiography in late September, a few weeks into my first semester at Georgetown, only now in the more apparent denouement of my existential crisis do I feel compelled to write its intentions, framed in the context of two gifts I received in November.



Echoes

  • Ben Folds feat. Regina Spektor - You Don't Know Me
  • 'Til Tuesday - Voices Carry
  • Jon Brion - Little Person
  • Nancy Wilson & Cannonball Adderley - Save Your Love For Me
  • The Perishers - Rock, Best Friends
  • The Libertines - Death on the Stairs
  • The Libertines - Music When the Lights Go Out
  • The Libertines - Never Never
  • The Five Stairsteps - Ooh Child
  • Katy Perry - Electric Feel (MGMT Cover)

Data compiled by Audioscrobbler.


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