Celebrating our proud national heritage at the Park Slope flea market.
The 2.1 days worth of music I’ve recorded in my lifetime has to be the most obnoxious trail of breadcrumbs I’ve left my future self.
I judge my friends by only one measure: what they think the last line of “Aneurysm” is. The options are:
“She keeps pumping straight to my heart.”
“She keeps a puppet string on my heart.”
“She keeps appropriate strain on my heart.”
No points are awarded to people who point out that their choice is what Kurt actually sings.
Once again I am only who I am
—George Saunders, “Offloading For Mrs. Schwartz,” from Civilwarland In Bad Decline, which is proving my theory that whichever Saunders book you’re reading is his best.
Don’t sing Sublime to babies. Or anyone.