I don’t believe in sappiness, but I do believe in gratitude.
It’s easy to become a snarky, heartless critic when you’re forced to make decisions on each piece of art you seek out in the world.
I’ll try something else.
Thanksgiving is over, but the turkey hangover (more viscous than tequila, more sluggish than downing a case of Beast Lite) and surprising amount of cheer have left me – normally a surprisingly jaded tool – in a nicely optimistic haze. Most of the time, trying to separate the memorable and forgettable according to personal taste is usually a pretty inadequate job. Now soon everyone’s year-end lists will come spilling out, highlighting albums that present themselves as big achievements. You’ll buy some random shit