How could anything be sweeter than the summertime? It’s the best time. It’s all swimming pools, and watermelon, and getting drunk, kind of sobering up, getting drunk again, and passing out before it’s even dark out. SUMMERTIME IS CHAMPION OF TIMES. The only times even coming close are maybe the six best hours of Halloween, the three days leading up to Christmas (BUT ONLY IF THE WEATHER IS SUITABLE), and the first two minutes of eating Thanksgiving dinner.
I live in Los Angeles now, where it’s kind of always summer—which means it’s also kind of never summer? But mostly it’s always summer. I swam in like three different pools last February, RYAN. (Whoa, what a cool moment if your name is Ryan—it’s like I’m writing directly to you. If you aren’t named Ryan, don’t worry, you can still read on.) I don’t think that makes me an expert on summer, but I’m not an expert on any of the things I write about in this column, and I write about them anyway… so without further ado, here’s some stuff to help you enjoy summer.
SUMMER SONG: Look, can’t nobody tell you what your song of the summer is going to be. People seem to think a song of the summer needs to be new, but that isn’t the most fun and summer should be about having the most fun. What if you want to spend the summer getting into Bob Seger? You should be able to do it. Your song of the summer can breeze out of a boombox and ensconce you in vibes so good, you don’t mind using the word “vibes.” Or it can thud out of your car’s speakers as you disturb the peace on your way to some gathering or another—but it’s got to tie a hundred helium balloons to your heart. For me, this year, those songs happen to be new… and yeah I picked two, stray away with your rules. STRAY AWAY. Listen to “I Know There’s Gonna Be Good Times” by Jamie XX, Young Thug and Popcaan on the way to the party, and “To Die in L.A.” by Lower Dens on the way home.
SUMMER MOVIE: Go see Jurassic World, UNLESS YOU HATE FEELING LIKE A CHILD AGAIN. I made basic, unshaped human noises of joy at least nine time while watching this movie for the first time. You know those noises. Like how cavemen communicated the notion of dope. If you want a summer movie for adults… well, go buy a wool sweater. You deserve to be itchy.
SUMMER DRINK: I can’t fuck with Slurpees anymore, man. Breaking my dang heart. They’re just too sugary. Every time I drink one, I gotta lean against a wall and collect myself. Naw, instead, I fuck with that minty Yerba Mate in the yellow can. Whichever that one is. And if you want to catch a buzz, drink beer if you’re wearing shorts, and gin and tonic if you’re wearing pants.
REALLY? Naw man, it’s summetime. Don’t listen to me. Do you own thing. I live in LA… the fuck do I know?
why do you write for the portland mercury from la? i mean, we got like all these fucking tyler hursts right here.
^^The logic in this is self-evident: If WW is going to hire a newcomer to tell us what Portland is all about, then the Merc has to have a new-goer do the same. Portlanders are obviously the LEAST qualified to comment on themselves and their environs.
Sorry, I didn’t have to read this, too busy working on my new column for LA Weekly.
Too busy to proofread my comments, too.
I’d like to retract those comments. What do I care if someone in L.A. writes for a Portland alt-weekly? (I’ve always enjoyed retracting, ever since the day my parents bought me my first retractor set.)
I think I’ll retract that last comment, too. And this one.
My name is Ryan, and I moved from Portland to LA. And I still read the Mercury because the weeklies here suck. Ian, it really felt like you wrote this for me! Thanks for making me feel special.
Please tell me Popcaan is James Caan’s rap name.