But besides wearing T-shirts displaying the names of my favorite bands-in the age before Spotify playlists or Instagram stories-there was no way for me to express this devotion publicly. Seeing as my fingers were too clumsy and uncoordinated to learn an instrument, seeing as I hated standing in front of crowds and didn’t enjoy being the center of attention, even as a fantasy I knew it was pretty shaky. By which I mean: determined to like only music that had been deemed “good” or “cool” by some higher authority, and determined that at least some of my identity would be wrapped up in my “good taste.” I already knew I wanted to be a writer-was writing constantly-but there was some small part of me that dreamed of being a rock star. I was 14 or 15 when I became predictably insufferable about music.
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