by Michael Donovan
- This is the true story of an eventful weekend. It makes very little sense.
- Listen to the songs. They capture my mental state far more accurately than the ridiculous prose.
- Read the prose if you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.
- The Hopeless Romantic Status is a clear and objective indicator of how I relate with the girls in my life at any given point. Its word is canon.
- Seriously, listen to the songs.
- “Get Up Off Our Knees” – The Housemartins
(10/27, 9:43 pm, Alumni Hall Basement): Hey guys, I was thinking, wouldn’t it be fun to spend several hours in a musty, sweaty cesspool of post-adolescent debauchery? It might be good for us. I know it’s a Thursday and we have class tomorrow, but I won’t be able to live with myself if nobody sees my flannel-jorts combo. Let’s go out.
Hopeless romantic status: High Fidelity Chapter 1
- “International Waters” – Zozo
(10/28, 1:36 am, The Heart of Darkness): Look at all those moving parts — the flailing limbs, the beverage containers, the lights, the sounds. I’m lost. There’s a guy dressed like an explorer, several people in animal costumes. We might be in the jungle. Is that a “Wonderwall” club mix? Mind blown. If I don’t make it out, tell my parents I love them.
Hopeless romantic status: Hemingway minus the wit
- “Caravan – Live” – Van Morrison
(10/29, 12:59 am, somewhere on East Washington): What a great night! These things are a tad sloppier than I remember, but I guess that’s what gives them character. What’s that on the couch? It’s not quite dirt. It’s definitely not food. Well, screw it, its probably safe. Let’s sit down and talk about sad British pop music. Why, you ask? I have a rather limited bag of tricks.
Hopeless romantic status: 500 Days of Summer
- “Dives” – Alvvays
(10/29, 2:21 am, another dark room with a sticky floor): So this is what hockey players do on the weekends. I’m quite sure what to think about their affection for pop punk remixes, but, at his stage in the morning, I’ll take what I can get. Anyone here wanna talk about music? No? Ok, I’ll just sit over here and scribble lazy song verses in my iphone note stream. Pay me no mind.
Hopeless romantic status: New Girl on Netflix
- “I Wanna Sleep” – No Age
(10/29, 9:43 am, Legacy Village): Guys, I’m okay. I got my 3 hours last night. Besides, this is a tradition. If I only get a finite number of home games in my time here, I have to take full advantage of every single game day. Roughly five hours from now, we’ll probably all be depressed, let’s enjoy this hazy breakfast together and forget about its implications for our physical and emotional health. Carpe Diem. Go Irish.
Hopeless romantic status: Keating’s first lecture in Dead Poet’s Society
- “Thundercrack” – Bruce Springsteen
(10/29, 7:42 pm, The Sea of Surprised Undergrads): What’s this? What going on? Is our number higher than their number? Is the board broken? My friends are here. I’m here too. We’re all happy. Not too shabby.
Hopeless romantic status: Blake’s songs of innocence
- “Love Don’t Feel Right” – The Cairos
(10/30, 11:13pm, A dorm room sarcastically labeled as “house”): This party, I have to say, is one taco short of a combination platter. The flashy lights are cool, but the timing is just screwed up enough to lull everybody into an uncomfortable daze. We have the materials and the people for a quality social gathering, but nobody’s feeling it. She won’t give my English major pitch the light of day. That corner looks nice. I think I’ll curl up over there.
Hopeless romantic status: Almost Famous if it were set in the 50s and written by someone recovering from a dental operation
- “What Became of the Likely Lads” – The Libertines
(10/30, 3:05 am, an empty hallway): Finally, another hopeless romantic who gets it. I have girl problems. He has girl problems. Nobody’s here to tell us how pathetic we are. We may be on to something here. Side note: Never thought anyone would pay attention to a brash Teenage Fanclub allusion. I stand corrected.
Hopeless romantic status: Morrissey’s hysterically pretentious self-image
- “Think” – Aretha Franklin
(10/30, 3:46 am, a less empty hallway): That’s a valid point. Vocabulary Workshop is definitely at the heart of a ghastly, murderous conspiracy. By the way, do you thinks its possible to say the word “had” eleven times in a row and still have a grammatically correct sentence. Wait! Hold up! What’d you say? Hmm. Vulgar, unwarranted, but surprisingly fitting. Why are we still talking about this? Why does it seem weirdly productive? Can we go back to talking about my situation on the girl front?
Hopeless romantic status: (system diagnostic check required)