The wit and wisdom of Parquet Courts:
"Thread count - high/Commissions - high/Hourly rates - high/A minute of your time? Forget about it."
"You should see the wall of ambivalence I’m building."
"Socrates died in the fucking gutter.”
"As for Texas: Donuts only (you cannot find bagels here)."
"And I’ll reserve my highest Hosannas for the communion song that’s served with light beer, and a chorus that inspires the score played in my myth-steeped years."
"Time was measured in balls of lint, laundry claim tags, and number of cents it takes to drown your brain into a just-dowsed former fire."
"There are no more summer lifeguard jobs/There are no more art museums to guard/The lab is out of white lab coats/Cause there are no more slides and microscopes/But there are still careers in combat, my son."
"Sifting like miner in the conscience debris, hunched down, gleaning embers from a burning field trying to find something warm and real."
On “North Dakota”: “Cigarette advertisement country—wild and perfect, but lacking something.”
"In Manitoba they called it boring, at night we hum to Canada’s snoring."
"Former slave quarters tucked by the alley/Serf population too high to tally."
"I was debating Swedish Fish, roasted peanuts or licorice/I was so stoned and starving."
On an unrequited love for “Renée” (spelled incorrectly on the Bandcamp page): “I went to a shrink and he found my brain and I have/no ideas is what he found.” (Note the deliberately quirky separation of lines — this is a frequent tact of theirs.)
"Gazing out into the river Styx she said, “It’s no river at all. It’s a tidal estuary."
"They called it the pyrex age, the glass dawn of our thought process."
"You’ve been getting lots of similes but I want your disease." (Actually she gets metaphors not similes, but the latter scans better.)
At a funeral: “Snacker’s conference at the buffet table/Double dips in the goose paté mold.”
"Frozen mid-sentenced smile, you were the picture of health. (No prognosis implied)."