I don’t mention it much, but I think this applies to me. Almost all of my favorite music is from the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s. My favorite instruments and musical sounds are “vintage”. My favorite furniture could best be described as antique. My favorite places to hang out are smoky and dim-lit. I prefer bourbon and hand-rolled cigarettes over Sparks or “Four” and cloves. I prefer Dylan and Canned Heat over The Shins and Elliott Smith. My favorite radio show is Prairie Home Companion. I prefer the radio to the television. I either like to wear jeans, boots, and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up (and a pocket in the front for cigarettes), or a suit and tie. I’m a meat and potatoes man. I like Grandfather clocks, typewriters, hardwood floors, and loud, old cars. I like firearms. I like the way books and records smell. That smell you get when you step into your grandparents’ place? That’s one of my favorite smells.
I don’t like any of this stuff because I think it makes me cool to like it. I don’t do it to “make a statement” or be ironic. I just fucking love the shit out of it and it feels totally natural. I think if I could transplant myself into the 1960s, I just might never come back.
I realize I probably sound like an idiot, but whatever.
