Jul
27
It’s albums like “The Idler Wheel…” that make me feel so worthless and complete at the same time. Complete because it’s gloriously and unabashedly emotionally raw and honest and I get to listen to it whenever I want, and worthless because I will never create art this good.
That’s what we’re supposed to feel, right? It’s like I can never fully enjoy an amazing book or album or any artistic accomplishment that’s not my own because I always feel a tinge of worthlessness. When will it be my turn? I want to impress and simultaneously depress people with my stories because they rule so hard!
For now, I will stick to meaningless, unintentionally self-deprecating blog posts! Pretty cool, huh?
