2021-01-24 12:20:07 (UTC)

the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo (Car Seat Headrest lives in my house i guess)

"Bela Lugosi's Dead" by Bauhaus

[remembered this song the other day; Adrian had me listen to it. Adrian's been a ghost in my head all week for no reason, lol. I've been thinking of re-watching Harold and Maude, and I remember he had me watch that; and then I found my old Neuroscience literature review paper from senior year, and I had dedicated it in part to Adrian—I have no idea why I did that. Probably because he was so important to me. I mean, of course he was. That was part of the problem~~ lol. Anyway yeah also this song. Adrian's ghost, you are welcome to stay, because you have good taste in stuff; just please don't manifest yourself as a memory, thanks]

January 24, 2021 Sunday 11:20 AM

This week has been a fever dream. On Wednesday, I was bored during a film class (yes, it was the first day of the semester but whatever). Out the window I saw a husky wandering in the street so I sort of just... walked "out of lecture" (my video and audio were off so it really didn't matter). And we got the dog. She didn't have a collar, but she looked well taken care of and was extremely well-behaved, so we ended up taking care of her for, like, 3 hours. But it somehow felt like much longer? Matt stood on the corner with a sign, I made a sign for the window of our sunroom (sounds more luxurious than it is—our "sunroom" is this long and very cold hallway off the living room with big windows and a bassinet at the end). I walked around for a bit knocking on people's doors while Maria and Matt worked on advertising the missing dog on Reddit, Facebook, etc. And then Matt took over the door-knocking because I was getting too nervous about it (I knocked on maybe 7 people's doors, but only one person answered). Eventually the dog-owner managed to get ahold of Matt. It turned out he'd been grocery shopping when the dog got out and he had no idea how she'd managed it? He was really thankful for us! It felt nice to do something good and I was just relieved we didn't steal anyone's dog, lol. Those few hours honestly felt like two days.

My roommates were really attached to the dog, lol. I wasn't. Funny how I am mirroring the character I've been writing—although I guess it's more likely that I designed a character partly around my own urges. The thing with characters is that, oftentimes, with me at least, they are a hyperbolic representation of a part of me, kind of exploded into an entire person. I guess it got distorted enough that I forgot I was in there somewhere.

Anyway, I felt no attachment to the dog, and weirdly that made me kind of sad and a bit jealous—to watch everyone else getting along so well with what was objectively a cute dog. I think I could've grown attached, but I have a very quiet and aloof way of interacting with pets, usually. I'm more of a cat person for that reason. Anyway, looking at the dog was like looking at someone else's baby. I didn't really care but I sure wished I did! And I could see myself caring easily. But I just didn't. This is a lot of significance to put on an event like this— so I'm gonna leave it alone now.

Also, to pile atop~ the fever dream. I got into Advanced Fiction. Finally... jesus christ; you bet yourself I immediately began the tough work of crushing my own slightly-lifted self-esteem by reminding myself that I'd been rejected like 3 times and that this time I knew in advance that the professor liked my writing, so technically I didn't really get in on my own merit.... Anyway I still believe these things wholeheartedly. I almost wrote, just now, "I'm going to take it at face-value! I've improved enough to be in Advanced Fiction!" But if I were to say that, I'd be lying; and I'd be lying so as to appear more healed than I am. Wish I think would defeat the purpose—it would allow me to give up on the hard work of improving my self-esteem by pretending it had already been improved, haha. So, uh. No. I still think I got in my some fluke. To be fair, I still feel like that's how I got into Brown at all. But I feel fine about it, because I've never really felt stupid while attending Brown. I mean, sure, it's not exactly easy; and when it comes to the sciences, I am for sure out of my depth. But for my interests? I've felt really good about those things.

Okay, time for next fever-dream thing. Which is probably the weirdest one of all.

Yesterday, Maria saw that the dude from 1 Trait Danger/Car Seat Headrest—Andrew Katz—tweeted about needing a video editor for a music video. At first, Maria directed it to me, but the guy needed effects and I don't know how to use After Effects. So instead we gave it to Matt. And Matt?? Managed to get on the phone with Andrew Katz so fucking fast? And since then, they've been working on the music video together. They were on the phone for HOURS yesterday. Matt kept his door open so we could listen.

I can't emphasize how weird this is to Maria and I. Car Seat Headrest is our favorite band. Well, mine? I think MCR may still hold first place for Maria. It was very, very fucking weird to hear the drummer's voice on a phone—a dude I've seen perform on stage, not just live but for Jimmy Fallon and shit, and on KEXP, etc. Soon enough, Will Toledo will also be on the call. Fucking weird. Also I was looking through all the footage yesterday on Premiere, listening to the (unreleased) song over and over again. Absurd! The idea for the video seems really cool, though. Matt's been showing us his cuts as he goes. I really can't think of a better person for the job. Matt is so, so, so talented. Oh, also, Matt and I were working on getting really stupid 3D effects yesterday, lol. I have a Windows desktop, so I used the movie maker thing that comes with Windows 10 to get some absurd effects; put them on a black background and exported them so Matt could mask out the background and use them in the video. It was so fun and stupid. I think I really miss editing. Especially things related to music. Editing the documentary was okay, but man—I think WBRU was more fun, as torturous as it was.

Maria keeps mimicking Will Toledo's voice. Normally, I think I'd find that funny but it gives me an odd feeling now, because, you know, now he's a real person. A consequential person. It didn't matter before, because generally I try to regard musicians in the same way I regard authors—as almost unnecessary to the music itself. Death of the Author, etc. etc., yanno? And I do this partly to avoid becoming a fangirl. But it's much easier with authors, haha. I mean, I love JD Salinger's writing and I know a decent amount about his life, but he's history. Nabokov is history. Vonnegut, Bukowski, so on.

With musicians—they are much closer to the work. Unlike authors, who can sort of store their ideas and art within a free-floating vessel—the book—musicians are required to attach and express their music through their voice (excluding instrumental tracks, obviously). More than that, especially in this day and age, their faces and visible personalities are shorthand for their work.

This, I think, is especially true for Car Seat Headrest. I've talked about this before, but one of the things I really like about CSH is the sort of ~network~ of lore and information that exists within the discography. It's extremely rewarding, to find the same melodies distributed somewhere in past tracks, same lyrics, or new ones; I can hear two versions of the same track, and then when I'm listening to one by itself later, my mind will automatically weave in the disparate pieces from the alternate version. It's also just really interesting from a literary perspective, because of how referential a lot of the lyrics are in ~earlyish CSH stuff (I realized the other day while listening to Souls that the line about T.S. Eliot actually mirrors a structure that T.S. Eliot uses in his poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" and it was SO COOL; I think the lyric goes something like "At the party kids come and go/Talking about T.S. Eliot," whereas the line in Eliot's poem is, "In the room the women come and go/Talking of Michelangelo").

A lot of CSH fans are super familiar with this web-like structure of the ~lore.~ Maybe this is like any "fandom" associated with music, idk. I've never really been a fangirl, but I kind of am now. I mean, I was a big Modest Mouse fan and I consumed basically everything I could related to MM, like the "documentaries" and old versions of tracks and stuff (thinking of the unfinished version of "Ocean Breathes Salty"—so good).

But this is a lot more than that, because CSH is more contemporary (yea yea, MM is still together... but they barely ever release stuff). There's suddenly this overwhelming amount of CSH digital content; videos, documentaries, tweets, twitch streams. A fucking video game (that's for 1 Trait Danger, but there's a lot of overlap in terms of fans, people who are coming from a CSH-corner to see the boyz in a new context). And it's kind of clear that this must bother Will Toledo, since it's been mentioned here and there and I think that has something to do with the new character "Trait."

It's weird to be part of the very group that discomfits these musicians; not only complicit in the acts, but active. When you spend as much time listening to their music as I do, you can't help wondering what the person behind the music is like too. Like staring through the lines of the novel, looking to trace it back to the anchor points in the author; I remember my professor quoting someone else, but I can't remember the quote anymore, I wanted to say, "I mean what I say but I don't say what I mean," but I think rather that that's something my dad said as a bit of a joke, the same way he said, "Eschew obfuscation," lol. No, the meat of the thing—the author's name was Susan—and she said something about how her writing is not necessarily the truth of her thought.

Which comforted me, because as a writer, I think there is always the concern that I must be attached to my writing; it must be a reflection of my own thoughts and opinions. This can be distressing, because I've said many things that are not true about myself; to imagine, for example, that these words I am writing now are direct lines into my head, are direct representations of who I am—that's stressful. And impossible. These words don't capture the breadth of who I am and what I think; in fact, they are in a sense constricting. They're vessels for ideas that quickly go extinct within me, or evolve beyond recognition. It's kind of not fair to see a person through their art, is what I'm saying. I'm not trying to say you can't learn *anything* about an author/artist through their work, but it can't be taken as literal; it's mostly just correlative evidence or something, isn't it?

Anyway. I hear Andrew Katz voice in the other room. I don't know if they're on the phone or if it's some clip on Premiere. The weird shock of it has worn off a bit. I have to poop. I don't think I finished my thought on CSH.

I guess. I guess. I guess I just wish. I don't know. Dude, I really have to poop. I'm just gonna do that lol... byyee~~~