"This Not the Indie Rock I Signed Up For"

Song by: Girl Friday

Trying to send a telepathic message that said, ‘Please don’t talk to me’ to the man next to me, I squeezed my eyes shut. I’m sure he was a very nice man but I was already having a conversation with Edward Hopper, and to be honest I was deeply intrigued in the possibility that this man thought I was beautiful for staring at a painting and I really didn’t want him to ruin that. 

Edward Hopper could match the cacophony of my brain at the moment and I wasn’t certain that anyone else could so I needed to focus on my conversation with the deceased painter. That’s why I sought him out and found him under the lightbulbs that were the perfect wattage. 

Nothing particular about his style made me like him very much, the man and Edward Hopper, but I really wanted him to like me in theory and in practice respectively. 

What Edward Hopper chose to paint seemed pretty chaotic. Like he had just said screw it I’m painting this lady sitting alone, and this diner of people in the middle of the night, and this summer conversation, there was never really a reason behind anything he seemed to choose but after he painted it you could kind of see why he did. I liked that about him, and for him. 

I bet the guy standing next to me chose to stare at girls with the same chaotic energy. He wasn’t certain about anything about them other than the fact that they were pretty woman doing something he wanted to want to like. 

I wanted to be someone, someone wanted to want to like, especially when I had the energy that needed to find lightbulbs with the perfect wattage. I was so happy it hurt. I didn’t like being so happy it hurt. I liked being happy, but when it bubbled up under the skin of my eyes I didn’t like it. 

Trying to send another telepathic message to the man next to me I squeezed my eyes shut and said ‘what is your name?’ but I said it aloud. He looked at me, and didn’t say anything. He walked away stopping to look at the pictures he came across on the way to the exit of the exhibit. I said, ‘fair enough’ and hoped he just didn’t understand me. I bet he couldn’t understand me, there would be no other reason.