Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
In the summer, I had a job grading homework and exams for a logic course. The work required me to travel in to my office every day, yet only do two to three hours of work. If it weren't for the fact that I was more or less miserable by the time I started working, late in the summer, I might have viewed the schedule required of me as a nuisance. But, really, I had nothing else to do and was unable to do anything else, so having to come in every day and exert myself just so much actually helped me to slowly become less miserable. (Other things - people - helped too, but I can't write about them here because that would mean writing more about being miserable, and I can't do that right now. But F, E, J, and G meant more to me than they know.)
I don't like the sun. As a rule. But for a while, summer in Minneapolis was actually hot and dry instead of hot and humid, and for some reason I actually tried to leave my office one day to grade, to sit out sweating and holding down papers so they wouldn't blow away. And to look at girls (of course) and the clouds and the horizon (of course), and to just sit and be and try to be happy, or at least not miserable. I think it actually worked. Some.
I have to work up to writing about a record here eventually, but I also have to break off now because I don't know what I want to say yet, and I don't want you to think that I have a big story to tell here about why the record is my favorite record of the year. They just go together, because that's what happened.
Records that have been helping me not lose it (it is finals week):
Stereolab, Dots and Loops. Missy Elliott, Supa Dupa Fly. Herbert, Bodily Functions. The Magnetic Fields, 69 Love Songs. Stevie Wonder, Songs in the Key of Life. Miles Davis, Filles de Kilimanjaro. Stereolab/NWW, "Animal or Vegetable". No Doubt, "Underneath It All". Pauline Oliveros, Deep Listening.
Records are not enough. No further comments to follow.
Though now that I think of it I'm not sure Stephin Merritt would want any of those.
Like Bob Dylan records.
And also records. Mustn't forget records.
That is, worldly because of books.
In a suitably morose, bedroom pop way.
He would also be quite worldly.
I can imagine Stephin Merritt becoming a bum.