2018: 8: 2


I don’t believe in evil. I think that evil is an idea created by others to avoid dealing with their own nature. I understand my own nature. Good and evil have nothing to do with it.

Nervous Young Humans, Car Crash Headrest

It’s just that I listened to both these albums today and they talked about evil.

I’m not that nice
I’m mean and I’m evil
Don’t call me nice
I’m gonna eat your heart out
I’ve got some work to do

When You Die, MGMT

That’s all that this is about.

I guess I’m also teaching Genesis 3 which is that thing about the serpent and Adam and Eve.  There’s no apple, no snake, no one says sin, no one says fall, and Jesus will be unknown for millennia.

I like those lines from Car Crash Headrest.  I think he’s right.  It’s like when people say Hitler was evil.  That’s ok, but don’t forget in that case that he was also human.  Evil monster let’s us off the hook of what humanity is capable of.

I digress.

The MGMT is just a fantasy song.  Shit you’d like to say sometimes.  That you say in your head when you’re by yourself and snapping at your foes.

Go fuck yourself
You heard me right
Don’t call me nice again

Don’t you have somewhere to be at seven thirty?

But kudos for making “go fuck yourself” sound catchy and slightly chipper.

Good and evil have nothing to do with it.

Most people are jokes but you’re so real
Most of the time that I use the word “you”
Well you know that I’m mostly singing about you

Nervous Young Humans

Will Toledo.  His lyrics are fantastic.

I was just listening to a band called Crywank.  Which is a pretty good name but topped by the name of their album: Tomorrow is Nearly Yesterday and Everyday is Stupid.  Now that’s an album title I can support.  Some of their lyrics are painfully on point but they are better sung than read.  When you read them they rhyme too much.  Too many a-b-c-b begins to be sing-song and contrived unless you really are an astonishingly good poet.

Do you have anything to say?

No.  I’m just talking about songs I’m listening to.  That’s all.

Finally some decent rain from the long predicted storm.  I poke at the internet and it gives up its fruit of hope and hopelessness.  I listen for the little lines that are true in songs.  In the morning I will walk to work.  When it’s raining the footpaths are empty.  It’s nice.

Except for the wet socks.

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