oh, no.
i was shuffling through the music i've put on my work computer this afternoon and was suddenly arrested by that soft, sweet voice i love. yes, my friends, i'm currently rediscovering the sexual feelings i have toward Sufjan Stevens. i'm basking in the Avalanche, his outtakes disc for the album Illinoise. "Chicago," the Adult Contemporary Easy Listening Version, to be exact.
i ask you, who wouldn't love an intensely and deeply mysterious and apparently shy songwriter who can admit he's a writer and not a performer? who wouldn't love a quiet, gentle person who would come onstage in elaborate costumes?
who wouldn't love a person who wrote this about hula hoops:
As a symbolic construction, the hoop is an existential goldmine. Insulated against the world, the hooper resides within a circular plane, a tube of plastic, shielding himself against the world. Like the driver of an automobile, the hooper is contained within a physical habitat, a moving object, the hoop. But while the automobile traverses a finite linear path, the hoop is hypnotized in perpetual and circular motion going nowhere, a planet revolving around its sun, the hooper. The wheels of a car instigate forward movement through time and space, signifying the path of progress. But the hoop makes momentary points of contact around the body with affectionate twists and turns, transfixed in centrifugal motion by the dance of skin. In this sense, it makes no progress at all, but instead continues its quiet meditation on the human body, the object of affection.
who, i ask? who?
i love him.
2 comments:
...have you just gone live???!
It seems as though you are not for my eyes only anymore:)
Also, how are things going to pan out if Mraz is having your children?????
Answer me that!
XO Always Plume
Oh, yes. So beautiful.
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