SCHWAYSTED

suitwithsneakers:

Hi. I made a song called “Parthenon.” I released it as part of a Black Friday EP that was available for 24 hours, and then I will release it as a bonus track on an EP I am releasing this Wednesday for free at adamwarrock.com. So you can listen to it. 

I’ve never seen the Parthenon, nor have I never been to Greece. This song’s genesis came from my experiences in Washington, DC, where I am staying right now. I used to live in DC for about 3 years, and if I felt like it, I could take a longer walk through some of downtown and happen by the White House if I felt like walking a bit longer to the train. Obviously, there are always a lot of tourists who stop and take pictures of the White House. It’s an historic building, it looks cool, and hell, pictures…who doesn’t love those? One day I was walking by this family, and they were huddled around the railing that separated the people from the front lawn of the White House, and they were snapping pictures. I peeked around them, and saw that they were taking pictures of a squirrel. This was a normal squirrel, the same as every squirrel you’ve ever seen before. It was just sitting there, nibbling on something. It was just a damn squirrel. 

I have always remembered this scene in my mind, and it comes up more often than I ever thought it would seeing it that day. You’re standing in front of this gigantic, majestic building that is full of history. It’s an important building, and one that has come to represent a lot in the eyes of the world, and even in my eyes as an American citizen. Plus, it’s just a good looking building. And these people were taking pictures (multiple pictures) of a squirrel. A SQUIRREL. I was reminded of that part in Don DeLillo’s White Noise, where there’s a barn that is the “most photographed barn in America,” and people come from all around to take pictures of the barn, further reinforcing the only reason it’s famous. I never felt like I truly understood that part of the book until that day. 

I grew up with a mother who was obsessed with taking pictures (Asian jokes go here). She has catalogued virtually every important moment of my life, and placed them with care in a numbered photo album. So predictably, I grew up with an aversion to cameras and picture-taking. I’ve owned only two cameras in my life, one was given to me as a gift and the other I bought just so I could take merch pictures for my site. There’s no pictures in my home, I don’t have framed photos or collages. I just dont’ have photos. I just don’t remember things in that sense. I don’t mind looking at photo albums (hell, I find them fairly fascinating character studies of the people who make them), but I just have no interest in making them or reexamining the moments of my life. I’m the farthest thing from a visual person. When things are important to me, I remember how I felt inside, those nebulous, esoteric sensations you get in your chest. That may make me a mildly self-centered person (I want to remember how it affected ME, not the PEOPLE I was with), but y’know, what can ya do. I just have no interest in photos on a broad scale. 

We’ve reached some kind of weird zenith in life, where most likely if you’re not taking pictures, someone around you is. If you’re friends with me on facebook, all the photos come from other people having taken them of me. And I find it weirdly comforting and disconcerting, as if someone is always around to document the mistakes, to document the moments, to have others tell me how things happened. It’s akin to the idea that if you make a typo in a blog post, or a factual error, it’s almost for sure that someone will point it out, and deride you for being so stupid. It’s nice that people read your words, but at the same time, get off my back jack. 

When I look back on this last year, I want to remember standing in the shadow of a thing that’s greater than me. I want to remember this feeling of the impossible. I hope to God that in hindsight, I realize that I did it, but most of the time, I’m not really sure of it. And that’s okay. If there’s one major thing I’ve had to come to grips with in the past year, it’s that no matter how great things seem they’re going, you have to accept that the next month may be utter shit, and that failure may be right around the corner. No one can maintain a hot streak forever, and I just have to hope I have a little more figured out before I move on to the next thing. 

And at the same time, it can never feel impossible all the time. Things will change, and these great things that stand before you will one day be in ruins. Monuments, temples, statues, they will be gone, and the more time you spend admiring how great and majestic they are, the more time you waste on things that will, inevitably be gone. 

There’s a line in the song that is taken directly from David Foster Wallace’s great graduation speech (now turned into a short book) This is Water, where he talks about a story where two young fish are hanging out, when an old fish swims by and states, “Water’s great today,” to which they nod. After he leaves, they turn to each other and say “What is water?” I’m paraphrasing, but that’s kind of a good way to see the way life is. You spend all this time figuring out what water is, and then one day you realize it’s just…everything. It’s the temples and the ruins, it’s the failure and the success. It’s all inclusive. 

And I need a picture of me standing next to the Parthenon, like I need a book to tell me what water is. And sometimes, you want to remember that you saw a squirrel. Whether that’s what they thought, or not, I’d like to believe that a part of it wasn’t that it’s a squirrel, it’s that they saw this squirrel that day, doing this big event in their lives, seeing the white house as tourists. If they put the camera down for one second, they could glance up and see a pretty cool picture. 

That little action, that shift of perspective from a lens to seeing the wide picture around you, could be the difference.

Or maybe not.  

I remember my aunt taking pictures of the squirrels outside the White House in 93’…

This is an awesome song.

Listen if you don’t know who Adam Warrock is.

(via jonhex)