Tim Minchin meets Storm | A beat poem set to animation. Or the other way around.
Oh fudge.
Listening to music while wrapping gifts, I found myself asking quite derisively,” Oh isn’t it tiring to be so ironic all the time?” Except the next song (which of course was a love song) was truthful or sounded like it was factual and quite rational.
Then I realized that irony is dealing with facts and the self-conscious air quotes or winkwinklookwhatiseethatyoudont is what give it its air of pretension. And what makes it so tiring.
because truth knows no hyperbole. and it really doesn’t know anything.
and i collapse into the knowledge that language completely misses the point sometimes. or all the time. or is the point in the first place.
then return the comfort of metaphors.
tim minchin is a lovely cupcake.
The thing is, everything I do—I have a faint glimmer that it comes from somewhere else, someone else.
