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unbornwhiskey:

Jets to Brazil - Further North

It’s been a Blake Schwarzenbach summer, which means everything has tear ducts, especially corners of the room you’ve ignored for years because something of crippling weight happened there and no one is ready to recognize it. I’ve found myself listening to Perfecting Loneliness daily for its perfect concentration of largely awful feelings that will light themselves on fire in time.

This song is a favorite even among those who do not believe Jets to Brazil occurred at all. It’s carrying me somewhere with its calm recognition of the coming storm. It has resigned itself to a bleak ending. It is alarmingly fine with how cracked its wallpaper has become. Like it’s been here before. Like it’ll never leave here again.