Mega Sick

II - Avocado Pitt

"What do you mean you don't like the Arctic Monkeys?" Declan turns the steering wheel, looking at the road while asking me.

I sign, answer him "It's not like I don't like them. I don't appreciate Arctic Monkeys like I do with The Kooks, Tame Impala, or especially MGMT for indie and psychedelic rock genre."

"What do you mean?" Declan frowns, his eyes staring straight ahead. I think I just hit him hard just by saying that his favorite rock band was not that impressive.

"Have you ever realized that most songs from the Arctic Monkeys often have rhythm and drum routine similar to each other? The lyrics are catchy but a bit repetitive, quite easy to jam into, like Marvel superheroes movies. It is as easy to get into as it is easy to forget. The only thing I like about Arctic Monkeys is its style and consistency of their style. Other than that, there's not much unique things to talk about them. Hey, there's a left turn here. "I say, pointing to the arrow sign on the side of the road.

"So what is unique to you?" Declan turns the steering wheel again, glancing at me.

It's 11:20 am.

"If you want to hear good psychedelic band with unique beat and drum routine, try Tame Impala. I guarantee, you will find every song of them is different from each other and nowhere near repetitive. A strong vocal is not necessarily suitable for indie than rock. Indie music tends to go deep with words. That being said, I haven't seen anyone like MGMT in every facet of their music, including the creativity in their lyrics." I brush a few strands of loose hair behind my ears.

"Just think about it, there is a band that sang about fears that children have, about worries of the future and the craziness, impulsiveness of youth, in a music video like you're going on an acid trip with I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin and fuck with the stars yet? Man, I think their songs in that era were the best they've ever made" I was grinning as I speak; just the thought of good songs makes me happy.

"Hmm.." Declan didn't reply to me, seems like he was thinking of something.

We passed by one of my favorite bakery shops in the city. It has been around for more than 30 years, decorated with yellow lights, movable roofs and gold metal rim, green velvet furniture. Yep, the style feels a lot more 60s to me. But everything in the bakery looks good together, even breads that are slightly burnt on the side. Their croissants make the bland black coffee they sell at CVS taste a lot more tolerable, can even consider a decent compliment for breakfast.

"Hey, we're at the place, but apparently you can't park your car here." I glance out the window, this was Str. 09, reaching my hand out to tap on Declan's right shoulder repeatedly.

"Alright, alright. Stop beating me, or I'll crash this car."

-

I watch Declan walking towards my side from the parking lot from the opposite side of the road. The sky is crystal clear today, sunny and windy enough to not get too hot.

Declan is in a tunic again today, with a deep V-neck held together cross-stitch strings, giving off a romantic hunter aura, along with a blue mirror wayfarer. Well, definitely more appropriate dress than I was today with neither sunglasses nor a hat.

"Alright, which direction is this?" Taking a step closer to the sidewalk where I'm standing, Declan asks.

Across the street is a skyscraper covered with reflective glass belongs to a securities company, behind which is the Museum of History. Next to it is a cafe with a huge glass wall overlooking the city park. Their lunch and espresso base drink menu is not bad.