The Dangers of Our Private Spies
This morning, I played Band of Horses’ “No One’s Gonna Love You” on repeat while I “groomed.”
I like this term because it suggests an image of a wild animal, or possibly a domesticated kitten, licking its own fur. Thankfully I’ve long since moved past this point. And by “long since,” I mean since last week. As the wags say, “TMI!” TMI indeed. Indeed, TMI is the subject of this post.
Where was I? Oh yes, so I was playing this frankly pretty embarrassing and sentimental song, and I thought, “Oh man, Last.fm is recording that I’m playing this song on repeat! The Last.fm computer will thus think that I’m a total punk.” Then I thought, “Man, you can’t be a prisoner of what some imaginary computer thinks.” And that’s clearly true.
I’d also like to note that I can’t for the life of me get iScrobbler to work. Given that we’re living through a world-historical crisis, I figure this is something I can handle.
