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September 14, 2010

>In my childhood single bed. Listening to music in my “this might cheer you up” playlist. Wondering how many twenty-somethings are in similar situations right now. Wondering where they’re going from here. Wondering why Morrisey’s voice, or maybe Lou Reed’s, is somehow helpful. Or maybe Paul Simon’s “I am a rock”? Anything that qualifies as “vintage” by technicality and manages to be equal part pathetic and equal part hopeful. Maybe just hopeful in melody. Maybe not even that. Resisting the urge to dig through more relics of adolescence. Unable to exist as an adult self in the stifling suburban environment. Unable to exist elsewhere. Fear of feigned motivation. Fear of motivation. Fear of the motivated. Life goes on outside, probably. Gone is any type of routine. Gone is a firm sense of self. The insect once again cocoons, waiting for metamorphosis and  emergence. They are supposedly inevitable.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. September 14, 2010 6:49 AM

    >How many twenty-somethings are in similar situations right now, you wonder? I have no idea, but that sure sounds a lot like the nights I've been having lately. *sigh* At least I know I'm not the only one in a cocoon. Good luck with your metamorphosis. Please don't pull a Kafka and turn into a giant insect. <— lame attempt at humor

  2. September 14, 2010 7:04 PM

    >Wonderful post. This is why we love reading your blog every day and why we like reading other blogs.Just a note: Morissey is tiny in person. We almost hit him with our car.

  3. September 14, 2010 7:18 PM

    >Lalalalauren-I bet your cocoon is better decorated than mine.Hippest-You just made my day. AND I had no idea that Morissey was tiny, that's somehow hilarious.

  4. September 15, 2010 3:04 AM

    >I AM RIGHT THERE WITH YOU… Unemployed. Living on my own and not knowing how I'll pay next month's rent. Hoping for the best but not sure what's really on its way to me. Ahhhh… life.

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