Monthly Archives: July 2009

Taylor Swift

I was going to write my very second entry about teen pop sensation, Taylor Swift, and how much better she was than both Miley Cyrus and also Britney Spears.  But I decided to erase it because it was stupid.

The strange man on my couch didn’t murder me, in case you were wondering.  Nor did he enjoy any of the conversation I tried to have with him about Taylor Swift.  I want to talk about her all the time.  I want to make jokes about short-shorts and t-shirts and high-heels and tennis shoes, and that part of that song where she sings really high, and how good it is.  And how angry I know I would have been about that song if I were 15.  Not because it sucks, especially compared to, say, Ben Folds Five or The Smiths, the very best bands to 15-year-old-me, but because her lyrics reflect (somewhat craftlessly) the way I felt back then and kept feeling for years.  And she’s really pretty.  And she plays guitar. So she has NO RIGHT to claim those feelings as her own.

Oops.
Taylor Swift

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The Stranger

Right now, a strange man in athletic shorts is sleeping on my couch.  His name is Mark.  I think he might be kind of crazy.    I might be too.

He called me yesterday at 8 am, telling me he was leaving Mississippi.  He got to my door at 4 am.  I went to sleep around 11 pm, waking up periodically to call and ask where he was.   I’m not sure if this actually happened, but I remember calling him around 3 am, remembering that he was, in fact, Sartre (Stranger — Camus — Sartre, get it?) and calling him that, and him saying “No!  Mark!” and then I hung up on him.

When he finally arrived, I instructed him to sleep wherever he wanted, and then I went to back to sleep.  So I haven’t talked to him at all.  I hope he doesn’t rob me or murder me.  Keep your fingers crossed!

sartre

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