Liveblogging Deafheaven’s “Dream House”

Deafheaven

00.01 – 00.25: Place frozen burrito in the microwave. Directions say “heat for 2.30, flip over, continue to heat for another 2”. You place it in for 4:15, with no intention of “the flip”.

00.25 – 00.48: “Blast beats”, you say in an unintentional Keanu Reeves voice. Wiki “Blast beats.” “Blast beats” leads to “Black Metal” leads to Varg Vikernes. Not even a minute in and you’re learning about murder. But: tl;dr, man. Check facebook.

00.48 – 01.09: That screaming makes you remember of the time you tried to play a metal album on the big stereo in the living room. 10 years old, and you don’t remember what album it was, or even if it was metal—just had the explicit sticker on it. Seemed dangerous at the time. You got two songs in before your parents said that that was enough and ask where you got such an album. You never answered. You transport the CD back to your room, explicit sticker against your chest, and hide it. Thank god for Columbia House.

01:09 – 01:34: Be thankful they lay off the blast beats. Feels cathartic. Feels like you can air drum to this part. You can’t air drum. You never could. Remember all those times you air-drummed in front of a girl and consider that none of them are around anymore. Look down and you’re wearing basketball pants and flip-flops.

01:34 – 02:24: Favorite part of the song so far. But also recognize that it’s the saddest. You wonder if that signifies something bigger. You scour the lineage of mental health issues in your family, but give up quickly because memories are tl;dr. Headbang.

02.24 – 0.2.40: Headbanging always gives you a headache, so that, in addition to the three cups of coffee that you’ve had for breakfast/lunch, makes your head sore. Stare. Just stare like your face is full of cement. Bring up your webcam, look at yourself. This is all your computer ever sees.

02.40 – 3:45: Check facebook, email, twitter, reddit, your other email, first email again, refresh, hope for a (1).

03.45 – 03:48: Okay, we get it.

03.49: Oh. Cool.

03.49 – 05.02: Feel things. Revere the dynamics of the shimmering guitars that float above the sludgy, crawling beat. Analyze that, marvel at the contrast—pretend you’re a rock critic. Anyone can do it! Don’t give the song a perfect score, make your analysis nuanced and informed, but still be affected by the emotional releases that, well, sound revelatory right now. Don’t limit yourself to just music, apply your appreciation of beauty to the entire human condition. Close your eyes. Pretend you’re floating up into a white pillar—endless, blinding, sublime.

05.02: Oh shit, your burrito!

05.02 – 5.51: Burrito’s frozen in the middle. Should’ve listened to the packaging. Why do you think you’re better than directions? You’ve already come upstairs, though; reheating would mean going downstairs again. And it doesn’t really taste that bad, you tell yourself.

5:51 – 7:24: Look to the side and there’s a mirror. Catch the reflection of you eating this burrito in front of your computer, hunched and garbage-y. The song builds. You close your eyes and push the burrito away. Stand up. Walk to the mirror. Take your shirt off. Flex. Not bad. It just looks weird when you’re sitting down.

7.24 – 7.30: Dude screams for like six seconds here.

7:30 – END. Remain at the mirror. Get so close that you touch your nose to your reflection’s. Your breath fogs up the glass. This close you notice blood at the side of your mouth. Actually, no: it’s a refried bean. Shower.

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