http://www.speedofdark-web.com
Now, imagine that a certain person with whom you are infatuated sent it to you, with the instructions that you shouldn't over-analyze it.
Discuss.
12 years ago
Thursday, March 08, 2007
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15 comments:
Oh, I see: you're fobbing the overanalzying off onto the rest of us, eh?
Well, for a song with so much cussing, it's awfully pretty. Maybe he just thought it was pretty. Or funny; that would work, too.
Although, in all fairness, if I were in the situation you describe, I'd be giddy all day (without really being sure that I ought to be, of course!).
(PS--I haven't really met you, Dr. Crazy, so hello! And I'm really enjoying these infatuation-and-red-journal posts; very funny and eminently relatable....)
Well of course I'm putting it onto you! That way I honor the injunction not to overanalyze (and actually get some work done) while at the same time the analysis gets to take place. It's genius :)
And hello to you too, JB! And I'm glad you're enjoying the posts - as I said to the person who has yet to receive a pseudonym, my readers do enjoy some boy-craziness from me periodically, and he seemed to accept that certain things would be revealed on the blog. I've got to say, though, it is VERY weird writing about somebody who is going to read it. If I went with my better instincts, I would be self-censoring a bunch of this, but apparently my better instincts have flown out the window recently.
Dude, I have so sworn off the over-analyzing of the music one chooses to share with someone else. Two years back, my Long-Ago But Still Totally Problematic Ex--the one who's now married and with whom I am, at officially, friends, unexpectedly made me a CD for my birthday. I *think* this was just about showing off how indie and shit he thinks he's become. But I couldn't help but notice that what seemed like an unusual number of the songs involved infidelity.
Which is to say: sending someone a song or a mix is never a gesture devoid of meaning. But what that meaning IS? Dangerous to try to say.
Indeed, perhaps he's just trying to assert some indie/cool-kid cred? It is a pretty funny song, though, in an upbeat and cheerily insane way.
And self-censoring, as you mentioned the other day, would be giving in to the terrorists. Keep the stories coming - as your public, clearly, we're hanging on every infatuated word even as, I imagine, the object of your infatuation similarly hangs on your words.
Apparently the object of my infatuation is irked that more of you aren't chiming in about his motives. He's such an attention-whore. :)
(I mean that in the most infatuated way possible, and haven't stopped smiling since I read his most recent emails, which makes it very hard to do work. So indulge my object of infatuation and tell him about him. I'm going to turn off my computer and turn to work that doesn't require its use.)
I'll bite. I say he's encouraging you to indulge in the infatuation, the late night phone calls, your inner 15 year old, etc.
It's fun for you (and him), plus it's entertaining for the rest of us!
Hey, that's a fucking cute song. (Didn't Bitch,Ph.D. call for more profanity from the liberal bloggers? I'm just doing my goddam job here.)
Either
it's a warning, a call for you not to expect anything except a little flirty infatuation,
Or,
it's an admission that, (heh!) cupid came along and busted a cap in someone's ass who was only expecting this to be a little flirty infatuation, i.e. that he's gotten in too deep and is closer to love.
However, I'm postmodern, so I take the answer of both/and: both of these possibilities are correct and that the very pleasurableness of an infatuation comes in the oscillation between both these positions without having to ever choose between them. That's why having a crush feels so dizzyingly giddy.
Have fun!
I was going to say Cupid totally busted a cap in his ass, and that was the message. But now I agree with Sisyphus on the postmodernist explanation.
I totally agree. Fucking is much better without love. It just gets in the way. Don't fuck with love!
I am reminded of the time I was rolling around on my futon with a guy from South Africa. In response to my protest of "we don't really even no each other," he said, "I know; isn't it great?". It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
I dont know what I like better, following this whole infatuation story (or "series of vague references") or Medusa's story! Awesome.
You know, it's really an American tragedy, that more people don't fuck without love. I blame the Puritans!
Now I have a mental image of some South African guy who vaguely resembles Johnny Mathis rolling around on a tragic futon fucking with the abandon of the unentangled, surrounded by Freudians, Lacanians, and Secular Post-Modernists shaking their heads and holding up score cards. RIP Baudrillard.
Welcome to the desert of the real.
It's time to have the t-shirt made: WWŽD (What Would Žižek Do). He can referee if the tussle gets out of hand or the futon needs reprimanding.
Did you see the video?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwpr6dYkC8Q
It doesn't really add much to the analysis, but it is pretty awesome.
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