So, Bon Iver, I saw your postcard flier thing in the record store a few weeks ago. It was on the counter by the register, placed their nonchalantly, advertising your little April stint around the Midwest like I was supposed to know about it all along, like some marketing ploy to guys like me who aren't in-the-know but want to be. "Hey, there's a show at the Lakeshore Theater. Oh, but wait, it's tonight." I couldn't help but imagine (as you probably intended) a snooty voice saying "sorry" with a disinterested laugh for the full effect. I was glad I didn't imagine a "sucks to be me," as often happens with you. In hindsight, I'm glad it was the snooty voice; I didn't want to go anyway.
But whatever, I didn't buy your album. Oh I saw it there; it was right in front. Kind of pricey though, someone thinks pretty highly of themselves... It looked nice, presentable at least. I suppose you have to attract someone. Personally, I don't go for that look anymore. Dolled up in flashy black, and that cursive writing... a little too desperate if you ask me. I saw it at some other stores, too -- boy, you get around. But I hear the record is doing well. That's wonderful, really. I mean, I have heard it, wasn't impressed though. Not my thing, you know? It isn't bad, if you like that sort of thing. No, I need something a little more, a little less about them, someone who calls when they're in town.
Don't take it personally, though. I didn't when I saw those postcard ads. There were a bunch; guess a lot of people didn't want to go to your show. April 10, hmm... where was I? Oh that's right, I was super totally busy probably. I was at a bar with some people from work, and no, they aren't work friends -- they're just friends I happen to work with. Mark did that thing with his elbows and... you had to be there. I would've taken them to your show, had I known about it, but we all had better things to do that night anyway.
A band played at the bar, too. That's right, and they were just as good, maybe even way good. They were pretty solid, a little blues/jam/bar rock. You wouldn't be into that though; you're sensitive. Jealous? Don't act like it doesn't bother you, I've heard your songs. Ev-uh-ree thing bothers you. Why don't you go bother up a tree? And who's Emma, anyway?
Come to Chicago, see if I care:
*with Iron & Wine