this is my flow chart for what emo album you should listen to depending on your mood. if your current mood or favorite emo album is not pictured let me know and i may create a sequel
Albums that have been in my rotation since I left! Pt.1
Whenever, If Ever by The world is a beautiful place and I'm no longer afraid to die
Midwest emo is a genre that is a rather new thing to my rotation. I would say I've expanded my taste a lot since I've been gone in general.
That being said this album in particular is something I've returned to a lot. Something about this hits idk.
Other Midwest emo records I've enjoyed so far are:
Masked Dancers: Concern in So Many Things You Forget Where You Are by Brave Little Abacus
Everyone Asked About You Self Titled
See You by Pegmap
American Football Self Titled
The World is a Beautiful Place and I am No Longer Afraid to Die’s Whenever, If Ever 10 year anniversary remaster on I think clear and evergreen marble. I don’t remember
Anyway
I can’t believe this album is 10 years old. I remember when I first heard this band on a 4 way split. This album is incredible and I’m old as balls
there were books of different colors and sizes scattered all about his home in piles. they were in his living room, his kitchen, his room, there were even a couple in his bathroom. the first book that had stood out to me had the title ‘GUIDE TO FILM’ in big red text on her spine. it was a big book stacked right on top of a bunch of other small books, and a bunch of other small books were piled right on top of it. his home was very messy and small, but charming, to me it seemed small. but it was probably because he had so many little things everywhere. small little intricacies scattered about. he had a lot of cameras.
on the walls were a bunch of polaroid pictures of happy faces and art neatly hung up, all close together in a particular fashion. his sofa was a foresty green color - reminiscent of his eyes i tend to find myself getting lost in. if you can swim in blue eyes, i wonder what i’d refer to his as - perhaps a wild and unpredictable jungle. and they do say the eyes are the window to the soul. so i wonder what that pretty mind of his looks like, if it’s the same, or the polar opposite, and his eyes are the deceiver - the lurer of prey. i’d like to step inside and take a walk in there someday. all it takes is 20 minutes. 20 minutes of eye contact. then i would know everything. but who could stare into my eyes that long? people are seemingly afraid of total and complete intimacy and of course, vulnerability. it seems they can sense i can hear the noise in their head after the gates have been open. connection. they look away before i get the opportunity to peak my head in and look inside. its painful. who hurt you? who taught you to be afraid?
on the wooden floor in front of it was a very colorful patterned rug. he told me that i should sit on the sofa and asked what kind of tea i wanted. he opened the cabinet and listed the different kinds he had. i told him that pomegranate tea sounded good. he took a glossy ocean blue mug out of the cabinet along with a packet of tea. i watched him pour hot water into the mug and i never thought that such a simple action would drive my head wild with sinful thought. his pretty hands were adorned with beautiful metal rings. i wonder what a mess it would make if he were to punch someone and that thought drove me wild. if god were real, is she watching, and if she saw what we did at night, would she be able to resist? true love is a sight to behold. something you cant ignore - like a car crash you for some reason cant look away from - no matter how terrible. funny how the mind works. maladaptive daydreaming. how could he do this to me?
his golden curly hair sat pretty on his head and his curls fell perfectly upon the center of his forehead - golden ratio - is this a human or a work of art? who stole you from the museum? people are selfish and keep beautiful things to themselves, so i cant help but wonder...
he glanced at me. the rims of his glasses were big and round and translucent. his eyes were strange; they were a dark green color. i just wonder what sort of creatures lurk about in that jungle of his. when he stares at me, it seems they are about to leap out and grab me and pull me in but, i dont think id be so opposed. the thought caused my head to jerk involuntarily to the other side - as if my mind were telling me to look away, like it picked up on a threat before i could. one eye had little specks of yellow. inhuman you are. whenever he looked at me i felt warmth rush through my arms and my hands and my face. i quickly look away. im no prey.
i looked around and saw a big bookshelf a few inches from the sofa against the wall. the last three shelves at the bottom held a magnitude of records. old and new. his prized collection. i tried to read some of the records from the sofa but most of the text was too tiny to read. i walked over to the bookshelf and sat in front of the bottom shelves. i tilted my head and red the artist names. i’d say i didn’t recognize most of them - but i would be lying. there were only a few i had never heard of. but the ones i did know - Arctic Monkeys, Waxahatchee, Twin Peaks, The Growlers, Fidlar, and The World is a Beautiful Place and I am no Longer Afraid to Die.
I heard Marley place a mug on the coffee table.
“Your tea is done.” I always liked his accent. it was nice to listen to. especially late at night when I would call him because I wouldn’t be able to sleep, and he would be very sleepy and his voice would be low and small and raspy and he would almost be whispering. at night on the phone, he appeared to be a small boy, but to the rest of the world, a great big wolf. but this small boy, was vulnerable - at times. perhaps only with me. i would always hear jazz music softly playing in the background. he would always have a record playing as he drifted off to sleep. incense lit. he was careful not to share the softest parts of him to the rest of the world, he kept it hidden. for he believed it made him weaker. but there is bravery in being soft. im daydreaming again. i wonder if he noticed this time. im everything everywhere all at once. im split in two, in different dimensions.
“thanks. where’s your record player?”
“In my room. do you want me to bring it out here?”