i don't write about music because i know my limits. my writing is highly capable when called upon to cast magical golden glows upon memories of the olden days, but it's complete crap when it comes to music.
i don't write about music, which is why i'm not writing about boxer, an album i've loved for two years though only just now- as i'm airborne every week and an increasing astigmatism blended with the inferiority of airline lighting systems makes the words intolerably shadowy on the page so i'm left looking out the window watching the sun rise and set as my ipod rolls on and the cities slide past- am i realizing is pretty damn near perfect.
i've given this some thought. in the airplanes, between the drink service and the sunset, i've thought about what i would write if i were to write about boxer and i'm pretty sure of what i would do. i would argue that the stretch from "green gloves" to "guest room" is flawless. and i would admit that there is nothing in all of literature i wish i had written more than the line, "the uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults."