listening to local h’s bound for the floor
I’ve learned all my lessons before now.
Broadcasting live from a psychosomatic merry-go-round, centerpiece of this beautiful 1990s mall furnished with red carpet. That’s right! Malls had carpet at one point! Parents on an honor system, keeping blind faith in the cleanliness of their children’s shoes.
My eyes can only travel as far as I allow them. Dedication reserved for a peeling Coca-Cola label on a fountain drink dispenser in a timeless food court that wouldn’t dare be updated. A certain hominess with the Christmas crowds when the very life of their holiday season hinges on whether or not they succeed here and here alone.
And you just don’t get it.
Up and down we go. Never breaking rhythm but intensely we lean in. No change in tempo, no baroque overdrive, still we expand to a needed output sans exhaust. And around we go. Horsey maintains her or his facial expression, no matter how much older you get.
You keep it copacetic. Revolve. What good is confidence? Revolve. Dillard’s is so endless. Using a map wouldn’t guarantee we make it across. You know it’s so pathetic.
I love opening the book on a false history, mixing my own young experiences in a wished upon nostalgia.
Born to be down. We learn to accept it.
by ty miller
OGF’s sound is imaginative, simply put. Basic elements are used to construct their sound, but how these pieces fall are what make this band so special.
Surely all this is more cohesive than last year’s self-titled album, confident in shifting between sweet melodies, shoegazer intensity/overdrive, and post-rock weirdness.
Favorite track : 紫陽花
by ty miller
Dated tech lacking chic vintage form, a clink and clank of keys welcoming a certain sexual vigor before succumbing to the stick of the number 7 key. No more than six or so seconds of video is needed to deliver home the irony – none of this is sexy, but the charm alone too deadpan to ignore.
The 10-key calculator skills video is a punctual move. No desperation included, just the sweet satisfying sound of a zip seal on a Zip-Lock EZ seal bag. A move so uncommon, I use it on girls I have only moderate interest in. Too easy like ripped from the pages of a book I wrote, an identity crisis forthcoming as predictable as this Monday.
Star key. Print. Rip the receipt. Fun fact: The minus button is pressed after the input.
by ty miller
night time driving
Again, I’ve left her apartment past midnight. On a work night at that. What a stupid term – work night. Much like school night. Why bother describing the evening if your mind is on the next day?
She moved further out to a more accepted part of the city. Target Superstore nearby. Chik-Fil-A drive-thru line regularly wrapped around it. Extending my drive to 7-8 excruciating minutes of slightly worn Interstate. Apartment complex, fairly new. Parking spaces limited, so three buildings away it is. Eventually I make it to my car.
Four speed bumps later, the next obstacle – the gate. How close to approach before it starts opening? Here’s an inch. Nothing. Okay, another. Nothing. Fine, take a couple of feet. WHOOSH! Oh shit, reverse reverse reverse!
Now I wait. The street is running perpendicular up ahead. A dead and clear backdrop. Nothing to contemplate or dream of. Just the 7-8 minutes between this gate and my bed.
By ty miller