Vulnerability is hard to accept in ourselves and hard to observe in other women. I want to be strong, but I am often a puddle. I cry in public all the time, out of joy and sadness and irritation and probably boredom, and always completely out of proportion to whatever is happening, just like an old-timey hysteric. I crush hard for all kinds of stupid reasons and it's very humiliating. But I’d like to think of that excess feeling as, I dunno, a gift, and not as evidence of my inherent weakness. I don’t want to feel like my feelings are letting the team down. Feelings are powerful!
Here's an unsubtle hour of music, as brash, broad, and gleeful as the goddamn Fourth of July.
I was going to make a whole list, but then I looked at my iTunes and realized I pretty much have the same three on repeat, haha. But they carry me through the whole emotional spectrum, I guess — excited to nervous to sad, and back again.
And regarding the final song on my list: who will you ask to dance during the world's final "slow song"? And what do you think will even signal that the final slow song has begun to play? Earthquakes, avalanches? Anything? Nothing? Assuming there's something, though, when faced with the world's final slow song, will you have the presence of mind to pick [...]
Or, most of it. Let's get through this week in three-hour blocks, shall we?
Featuring an exceedingly rare music box remix of Disclosure's "Latch" at the end.
Last spring, I went to a singles yoga class with my roommate. Singles yoga? Yes, singles yoga. It was my friend’s idea; she thought the male teacher was hot and convinced me to come along. But before we left the house, she said, “Wait, Smiley, you can’t wear shorts to a singles yoga class — there’s going to be cute single girls there. You have to wear something nice.” “Wear something nice?” I said. “This is my yoga outfit: t-shirt and basketball shorts. I don’t own those spandex half-pants" — (do guys really feel comfortable in downward dog with their junk just hanging there?) — "so what am I supposed to [...]
10 Songs For Your Limp Dick
1. "Stutter," Elastica
2. "I Just Don’t Know What to Do with Myself," Dusty Springfield
3. "Under Pressure," David Bowie, Queen
4. "(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction," The Rolling Stones
5. "Patience," Guns N’ Roses
If you get existentially freaked out by books like 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die, take a Drumstick break. They have a variety pack now! For the rest of you: The Guardian made a new toy that creates a playlist of the six-songs that sum up your life. You start with the "first song you ever bought" (almost no longer a thing! Hurry!) and end not with your funeral song — though you have to choose that too — but an encore. (As if.) Which are your six songs? No pressure.