Cathrina Krab

Why do we think that pop songs are superficial? Why do we think that they don’t get at exactly what we think they should be getting at? We wrote them, after all. WE wrote them. We WROTE them. We wrote THEM. We’re afraid to realize what this means about us. It means we are more naive than we thought, more idealistic than we thought. Sadder and happier than we thought. More in tune with other people, the millions of other people that we think we are distinct from, but that are actually exactly like us. We’re not special. We’re the opposite of special — we’re normal. And fuck it, I’m going to say the cheesiest thing imaginable — we’re special only in a macro-economic, biological sense: we’re special because we share our paltry feelings with others, not because we’re apart from others. We’re special only as a group — as individuals we are hopelessly cliched. Only as a group do we shine, if only as some weird sort of experiment in groupthink. Or whatever. Basically, what I’m saying is this: preachiness aside, we’re only possible as unique individuals because some random guy next to us thinks we are. If he didn’t exist, we would be just as banal as we secretly think we are. So thank your fellow man. Especially if you live in NY, because that fellow man probably sat thigh-to-thigh with you on the subway this morning. Despite the fact that he could have closed his legs just a little. Bastard.

DISCLAIMER: I may or may not have been drunk/listening to “Man in the Mirror” with tears streaming down my face/accidentally dropping a glass of wine on Ryan’s head when I wrote this. Apparently when I’m in that condition I sound like the guy from High Fidelity.