Nathan Savin Scott

Don’t kill anybody. There might be a time in your 20s when you encounter a situation where you’re like, man, I could totally get away with killing this person. Police wouldn’t have a motive. No one would ever know.

Perhaps the strangest thing about all this was how little I cared about who was responsible for the attack. I’m sure I will. I’m sure one day, when I learn who did this, I’ll lose sleep, and feel rage, real rage, and want to see them (or him, or her) killed. I’ll want blood. I’m no better than anyone else.

There is no “real” you. If you treat people poorly, or start fights in bars, or steal, or hit dogs, or pick on the weak kid in school, you are not, nor can you be, “actually a good person on the inside.”

This herd of attractive, toned young people checking each other out is an ecosystem that I have never been able to find a niche in.

Andrew WK makes freak out songs. (He pretty much built his career off of them.) So does Japandroids. So does Titus Andronicus.

A pretty song is one that you play in your kitchen, stirring onions that are just starting to crack in the heat of bubbling oil, the sun setting through the western window of your apartment.