Diario

If I knew how to use those little heart avatars or whatever they're called, I would put a heart next to that title, as I bet anyone who has been lucky enough to cross the path of Yo La Tengo in this endless magical mystery journey that seems to be record-listening would.

In the days of my alternative blossoming (ah, the youth), anticipating what would be one of (if not *the*) worse bitte-my-tongue-how-could-i-be-such- a-retarded-dork dark episode of my life, I was stupid enough to let them fall into the my-new-order-fan-boyfriend-loves-it-therefore-
it-must-be-crap" death-trap, which let me tell you, is not an easy one to escape from. Endless dj sets with You Can Have It All overplay wouldn't do it. Their entire discography on sale for $10 a piece (including Genius+Love=Yo La Tengo) wouldn't do it. One of the most weird and exquisite live performances I have witnessed (YLT in rio?!) wouldn't do it. For years, the snotty little snob inside of me found solace and escape in this unexplained animosity…