I was full of melancholy at the show tonight. Maybe because French Toast cancelled and I was wanting to taste a bit of DC punk rock cred. Maybe because Le Ton Mite decided to do a puppet show instead of sing French children's songs, and I was really looking forward to French children's songs. Maybe because Calvin is so lovely, but he sings about graveyards and I sadly imagine the day he's no longer with us. Maybe because Tender Forever is the woman I am in my dreams, but definitely not in real life.

Aemulatio, I couldn't find a definition online but I first encountered it in the book
How Rembrandt Reveals Your Beautiful Imperfect Self. It's an Italian word, for the concept of "acknowledged emulation of greatness". Like my friend S who is plotting a blog entirely constructed of Morrissey lyrics. Or how I feel cursed by Lois Maffeo, who I once overheard tell two friends "well, if you don't know what you want to do after Evergreen you can always volunteer at the (Capitol) Theater and stuff singles at K until you figure it out." I'm still there, except I never got so lucky as to stuff singles at K, but shelving books at the library will suffice for the mindless minimum wage job. When I was 17 I had time, she didn't pick up a guitar til 23, but the birthdays came and went and now I'm staring down 27 knowing I can't die a rock star because I never even tried to become one. But whose greatness do I acknowledge? I got some kind of post-modern messsage out of punk rock that I had to be original, that I had to just be me, but who is that?