Pop musings

Cleanly into thirds he folds his trousers.

I just gave a much-needed listen to the Killers album (as if their second holds a flame) Hot Fuss, and two things dawned on me:

1) It’s been a really long tome since I’ve owned a car. This may seem a trivial point, but try giving a listen to “Midnight Show,” witout thinking of the first car in which you made love. Awkwardly with teen-aged hands that felt like a child's clutching at bra-straps, tussling in speeling bags. This I, I argue, because of our inate and insane accumulation of things, a uniquely American experience.

2) If I’m not American, I don’t know what I am, but I haven’t felt really American since I’ve owned a car. I don’t quite know how to feel about that.