Well rolled burritos. Planet earth. Harbor runs. Black hair and blue eyes. Swedish fish. Insecurities and vulnerabilities. Club funt. Shotgun. So random. Crisp suits. Freshly fallen snow. “are you going to finish that?” people acting like animals and animals acting like people. Fuzz. Scented candles. “he’s creepy”. Asses. Spinal chords. Flocks of birds. Rolled up benjamins. “so…like...are you guys getting a table?” after glow. Lots of ice in our water. “I’m sorry I don’t have any cash on me, can I get you back?” Good vibrations. All the girls in the line for the bathroom. Bro. Dog noises. Eye contact. First one of the day---
We liked, we like, we will like…random pleasures falling in and out of place, each whim changing in the mirror--do you even know who you were, who you are, who you’re becoming? We are our future selves, our future selves and nothing more.
Pop music tends to push itself on people, it’s not that pop music is not relatable, it’s very relatable; a lot of people do relate to what’s at the core of pop music; love. Love and heartbreak, wanting and rejection, lust, desire satisfied and desire frustrated, , true love, and murky, unsettling feels in between, butterflies. Somewhere along the way it was more--Love, money, political problems maybe, social problems maybe, for a while angst and self introspection were on the radar. But we don’t know, Pop these days, or maybe for always, pushes itself on people. It tells you how to love, its for lovers, for casual sexers, for partiers, for people who say no to their parents and say no to rules and stay up late and dance. Its for people who are really cool and really chill. Its for work hard, play hard; for ecstasy, for money, for getting up the ladder, getting bottles, for fierce, passionate romantic love, for summer flings, for random fantasies. And sure, its escapism, we get it; who wouldn’t want these things? Who wouldn’t want to dance about this stuff? It sounds like the bees knees…but do we need these things? Must we always feel pressure to make our lives pop songs. Pop is fucking people up. Not everyone gets to be the love at first sight, the hottest bitch in the place, the greatest player in the game. Why we cant just get real for a second. Maybe its not as easy, maybe its not as convenient as starting with the chorus, the quick drop, the song with no instrumental break. But maybe its not all about having wifi wherever you go. Some shit you’re supposed to work through, some things you’re not supposed to get all at once. This is real music for real people; if it makes you dance, awesome, if it makes you laugh, even better, and if it makes you cry…
And if we get famous and we start making pop music and you think we sell out? Well then, so did you for caring in the first place; be real, no one has to be anything. We are our future selves, nothing more.
We’ll all be dead
We might not all grow old
But I want to grow nothing
Not a little
Not even at all