I fucking love this band. They're called Fucked Up and I probably should have gotten into them sooner. What could be better than a group of Canadians led by a schizophrenic, three-hundred pound situationist playing six-minute hardcore punk epics? It's like Black Flag but bigger, longer, uncut. Less neck muscle. They're coming to the Barbary Saturday with the recently-heralded and kinda sexy girl group Vivian Girls. I might break my neck. It'll be worth it. The time is ripe... I need to get my frustrations out at a really violently passionate punk show.
I'm feeling really light right now... I was planning to stay up all night cramming in the Tech Center for the history midterm I thought I had tomorrow. I got through a lot of reading before it dawned on me it's not tomorrow but Monday the 20th... Regardless, I'm staying up late.
Did you know that Magnolia is the best movie ever? Ever have that feeling at the end of a record or a movie or television show where you just want to cry for no reason other than that what you just witnessed was, like, for lack of a better and less general word, amazing? Magnolia gave me that feeling. I'm not sure if it's because one of the characters really hit close to home, John C. Reilly's utmost purity or just the shear bulk of the film I just watched but I got it. Please watch this movie. Every day for two weeks. The soundtrack is very good also. Tonight, I described Aimee Mann as a morose Sheryl Crowe...
Other things that made/make me feel this way:
The Hold Steady's Separation Sunday. Somewhere in the middle of "How a Resurrection Really Feels."
The Titus Andronicus show at Haverford, twice. When Patrick opened the set with a cover of "Going Away to College," and later when they played "Albert Camus" by my fucking request.
Toy Story 2.
Arcade Fire's "No Cars Go" and "My Body is a Cage" back to back.
Actually, I don't think I cried at the shear amazingness of these things but the feeling that overcame me was something akin to what I got from Magnolia...
Things that don't make me cry but feel amazing:
Two forties to the face on a Monday night.
My bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment