Can I have an essay explaining the title of your blog (“Am I really all the things that are outside of me?”)
omggg thank you for this ask twin i'm thrilled to answer it. put a seatbelt on. if you want. your choice.
in attempting to perform an analysis of the lyrics of taste by animal collective, the first and repeated line of which makes up the title of my blog, i find i am dizzied by their depth. the experience of the whole album, merriweather post pavilion, is dizzying. the first time i heard this album is one of my most treasured memories. i was in high school. think, not the parties and cliques, but identity exploration, first jobs from hell, friend drama, the beginnings of romantic relationships, and the newfound freedom of driver's licenses. my friend—who up until that day had really only been an acquaintance—had invited me to join them on a drive out to the sacred destination, Nowhere.
road trips are fun. road trips with someone who is hopelessly pretentious about their music taste are exhilarating. this has continued to be true throughout our continued friendship.
taste is something you not only experience internally, but something you express for others to grasp. but expression and taste are not equally easy to change. anybody can put on a different outfit.but if you pursue clothes authentic to your taste, it's like being naked. it's more like being naked than, well, nakedness. intentional expression is the goal, and it gets mixed up with these material things like bodies and clothes and art and music.
"am i really all the things that are outside of me?"
if it is unclear, i have something of a spiritual connection with this album, especially this song. but i also think it gets at the purpose of this blog and the purpose of living.
this blog is for me, to communicate with fellow man, my most authentic self. i am disgustingly authentic on here. more naked than i'd be if i had an OF. but i express myself in writing, in art, in tag rambles, in music. to myself and to everyone around me i am nothing without my context, without the expression of my taste.
