The days of simply slapping a “sincerely” and a flowery signature at the end have gone the way of the handwritten letters. Nowadays, there’s pressure to squeeze every ounce of digital face time into making yourself into an unbeatable kick-ass person. The way you end an email is the last impression you give to somebody, whether it be a future employer or your roommate.
1. Her father called her Kiki. Can you actually imagine anything more condescending than that nickname? Especially when you’re still drinking your first cup of coffee and he mocks your bagels.
Like, if I knew that woman in real life, I’d be kind of scared and maintain a safe but still involved social distance, the kind where I see her at parties, we talk and drink at glossy social gatherings, rarely in the sunlight and she’s much more useful as a conversation topic than a close confidante. I love her but I don’t Love her.
The rough and tumble realities of ‘big city living’ is little more than an exhausted trope at this point, but it certainly stands the test of time. Will you screw someone over, if it affords you an opportunity for success? Are you even willing to get exactly what you want? Is it tenacity and strength of will that converts erstwhile hobbyists into real artists?
Food Party was a combination of Pee Wee Herman, Salvador Dali, Julia Child, Tim and Eric, and LSD. To call it a cooking show would be like calling The Wire a cop show. Episodes revolved around hostess (and show creator) Thu Tran cooking up some weird food in her Technicolor cardboard kitchen.
…I’d be lying if I said I’m not intrigued by Tyler and the rest of Odd Future: there’s something exciting about their gleeful commitment to DIY ethos, their embrace of the macabre, and their rebellion against the materialistic status quo of mainstream hip-hop (“I created OF ‘cause I felt that we were more talented than 40-year-old rappers talking about Gucci,” Tyler raps on the lead-off track on his mixtape Bastard).
There’s the possibility—and I dearly hope that this is the case—that Perry covered this song to poke fun at the music industry and pop scene. Really, there is little difference between what Katy Perry does and what Rebecca Black did; Perry’s songs are just as heavily produced and manufactured as “Friday” was.
Seven score and ten years ago, a great civil war tested whether a nation born from revolution and built on liberty and equality could endure. And it has. Yet today, cataclysmic events in a foreign land threaten to eviscerate two entire races.
I sleep in my clothing. I mean, I wear a full outfit to bed. Everything except socks and shoes, so that means sometimes I wear hoodies or jeans or a fucking jacket to bed. The more I write about this, the crazier it seems. I can’t say when I started this behavior, but it’s become so ingrained into my daily routine, I see no reason to alter it.
Well, this isn’t about Nine Types of Light. Sort of. This is actually about the Nine Types of Light film, which the band packaged with the new album. It’s a visual companion to the record that fans could purchase as part of a deluxe edition of the new collection, or simply watch on YouTube the day the record officially dropped.