« Home | "Good at chess usually means bad at life." » | This is nothing like it was in my room » | Accidental manifesto » | You're dumbstruck, baby » | Please note » | Having a laugh » | A life on the internet and the road » | Kicking a dead pig » | A bigot, a reactionary, a liar, and a fool » | Too perfect » 

Thursday, May 24, 2007 

I started, I jumped up

When I was a wee boy of 16 or 17 and R.E.M.'s Up came out, I remember liking "Sad Professor" but feeling sorry for the narrator. Every year when summer hits my thoughts turn to the song thanks to the line "Late afternoon, the house is hot" and this year for the first time I didn't feel pity with the guy - I identified with him. And yet at the same time I also don't feel sorry for him, or for myself. I don't know what it means, but it's a profoundly weird feeling.

(this is also the first year that it's occurred to me that despite the academic references the title could refer to one who professes - which just gives more depth to the line "everyone hates a sad professor," for both Stipe and myself)

Links to this post

Create a Link



Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial Share Alike 2.5 Canada License.

About me

Ian Mathers is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in Stylus, the Village Voice, Resident Advisor, PopMatters, and elsewhere. He does stuff and it magically appears here.

Contact Me:
imathers at gmail dot com

My profile
Powered by Blogger
and Blogger Templates