Anti-Climacus

As a remedy for an ill-advised screening of Hobo with a Shotgun (we thought it was going to be MST3K funny, which it was, but it was also periodically horrifically violent. not recommended, to understate.), I spent the weekend watching various better movies, not least of them Singles. I have mentioned my fondness for this movie in the past--every time I see them drinking coffee (which is often), it reminds me how much I enjoy coffee and how it has managed to be one of those imagined pleasures of adulthood that never disappoints. I particularly enjoy the club scenes, even if I have a hard time imagining people going to see Alice in Chains voluntarily; they serve as a good reminder why people like me go to shows in the first place: it can be a lot of fun, and even if it's not, you're still out with people you know and like, and there's nothing at all wrong with that.

Singles also seems to me to subscribe to the Cameron Crowe ethos, which is mostly: that it is acceptable, and sometimes even cool, just to like what you like. No need to feel self-conscious about it. The life of an academic is pretty much non-stop criticism, and I think it can be healthy every once in awhile to put it off to the side.

So I love that this, one of my favorite Jimi Hendrix songs, is on the Singles soundtrack along with a bunch of excellent early-90s Seattle bands (and Paul Westerburg, but whatever): it's 20+ years older than anything else on the soundtrack or in the film, and yet it's there at one of the crucial romantic moments because it is a great song and two people who manage to independently recognize this are probably going to get along.