What sins could a duck commit in a single lifetime?
I am listening to a CD Henry made for me. The few days i worked with him on the ground, away from the noise of Afrons, when we spoke, were my favourite non-Rebekah moments of this summer. Not that i've had anything else happen to me, nor anyone else's help to have something else happen... or have tried myself to have something else happen. With my talent for remembering/never forgeting everything that happened during high school and him being a centerpiece for ingroup gossip and other goings-on, with us both offering a little intrigue to each other (well him to me, at least), we passed days away talking. And those were long days - orchard time works differently to normal time. I refuse to amount the time it killed to boredom. I wanted it, even at the risk of being annoying.
So i have this CD. In the final minutes of one day we pushed through diffidence somewhat and told each other we'd like to be in a band together. That is as far as i pushed. He mentioned bands he liked and i had to confess i hadn't heard any of them. In my crippling convention of limiting myself to being adaptable and not assertive, i asked him to make me a CD. He had had one ready for me since last season. He gave it to me on his birthday. I have to make one for him.
I like it a lot. There is no tracklisting for it though.
There is something wrong with me. Listening to it, the thought and effort i need to dedicate to make something for him on my mind, it sticks in me how beyond me it all sounds, how sophisticated it all is, how adult, and how immature i am in comparison. If i were to offer Henry something in return i dread to realise how it would be received. It is not so much what i listen to, as i could make the most agreeable mixtape ever and i would still feel this way. It extends beyond any small sacrifice of musical sanctuary as well.
A running line in our conversations was how we are still working in an orchard at our age, while everyone else in the world wasn't. This is by no means a race to find out who is the most rut-stuck of us, but i listened to Henry and if he was bearing an embarrassing situation to me, i was silent with greater embarrasment. I have no right to diminish what he feels, but while every one of my friends were busy moving out of home, travelling, being employed, having sex, taking drugs, expanding circles and making new friends, growing, making marks, i watched a lot of movies, got in the way and not a lot else. And these are my friends. Our group grew up differently than our peers, i grew up differently in that subset. I guess we all did in a way.
It pours through everything i am, everything i say and everything i do. It is not even a charming immaturity. It is an immaturity i feel is, or should be, greeted with polite pity. I do not feel like the age i am. Before i would say that in proud defiance, now it is said with a sort of shame, shame only in that i feel alone in it. I do not think i can catch up. Whatever it is will be on display tomorrow night at Henry's birthday party, and in the CD i will hopefully have made him for then.
I am not sure if i like my tone throughout this. I need to do something with it.
I'm going to see Sleater-Kinney tonight! Rebekah and i turn one year old tomorrow! I am going to Melbourne next week! Things!
Buzzcocks - Singles: Going steady
Big W, Penrith. $5.84
So where do the Buzzcocks fit in? I bought this when i was fourteen. Henry once asked me why i had this. The music press that examines peaks well after they have peaked claims it as classic, so i have their support in liking it. Still i would not take this and tell anyone i knew (except Rebekah) that some of the songs on here are the best ever written.
So i have this CD. In the final minutes of one day we pushed through diffidence somewhat and told each other we'd like to be in a band together. That is as far as i pushed. He mentioned bands he liked and i had to confess i hadn't heard any of them. In my crippling convention of limiting myself to being adaptable and not assertive, i asked him to make me a CD. He had had one ready for me since last season. He gave it to me on his birthday. I have to make one for him.
I like it a lot. There is no tracklisting for it though.
There is something wrong with me. Listening to it, the thought and effort i need to dedicate to make something for him on my mind, it sticks in me how beyond me it all sounds, how sophisticated it all is, how adult, and how immature i am in comparison. If i were to offer Henry something in return i dread to realise how it would be received. It is not so much what i listen to, as i could make the most agreeable mixtape ever and i would still feel this way. It extends beyond any small sacrifice of musical sanctuary as well.
A running line in our conversations was how we are still working in an orchard at our age, while everyone else in the world wasn't. This is by no means a race to find out who is the most rut-stuck of us, but i listened to Henry and if he was bearing an embarrassing situation to me, i was silent with greater embarrasment. I have no right to diminish what he feels, but while every one of my friends were busy moving out of home, travelling, being employed, having sex, taking drugs, expanding circles and making new friends, growing, making marks, i watched a lot of movies, got in the way and not a lot else. And these are my friends. Our group grew up differently than our peers, i grew up differently in that subset. I guess we all did in a way.
It pours through everything i am, everything i say and everything i do. It is not even a charming immaturity. It is an immaturity i feel is, or should be, greeted with polite pity. I do not feel like the age i am. Before i would say that in proud defiance, now it is said with a sort of shame, shame only in that i feel alone in it. I do not think i can catch up. Whatever it is will be on display tomorrow night at Henry's birthday party, and in the CD i will hopefully have made him for then.
I am not sure if i like my tone throughout this. I need to do something with it.
I'm going to see Sleater-Kinney tonight! Rebekah and i turn one year old tomorrow! I am going to Melbourne next week! Things!
Buzzcocks - Singles: Going steady
Big W, Penrith. $5.84
So where do the Buzzcocks fit in? I bought this when i was fourteen. Henry once asked me why i had this. The music press that examines peaks well after they have peaked claims it as classic, so i have their support in liking it. Still i would not take this and tell anyone i knew (except Rebekah) that some of the songs on here are the best ever written.