Listening to Lana Del Rey in cars is being boring and bad with your best friend who just got her license and shitty second-hand car (broken speakers, playboy seat covers) for her sixteenth birthday. You buy a cherry shaped air freshener and a pair of pink furry dice for the rear-view mirror. Listening to Lana Del Rey in cars is drinking fruity baby liquors like Schnapps and Passion Pop getting you fucked up on sugar> alcohol content. Stunted twentysomethings to buy you the cheapest wine with the highest percentage while you lurk at the back of the PAK’nSAVE carpark, where the estuary always oods, and you can count the trolleys in the harbour. Listening to Lana Del Rey in Cars, is driving with the windows down into the city at night. Heads out the window scream-singing !DIET MOUNTAIN DEW BABY NEW YORK CITY! You don’t have Jesus on your dashboard but you have a pretty hula dancer who grinds like a stripper in the red light W of the Westpac Stadium, like a neon welcome sign. Listening to Lana Del Rey in cars talking to guys on the hood, because you’re too young and too good to scam your way into a bar. When the irtations go too far, you fake a phone call. On the way home, you stop at Denny’s. e 3am waitress serves you dirty looks and rubbery eggs. She has a pinched late-night expression that says, what are you doing here? No I.D. No Service. No Exceptions. Listening to Lana Del Rey in cars is going home and scrolling through Tumblr in each other’s beds and reblogging images of American ags and tattooed men. e next day, you dip your French fries in your McDonalds sundaes for a 4pm breakfast with each other’s families for company, then her mum drops you home. Listening to Lana Del Rey in cars is texting sleepover at urs tonight? for the fourth night in a row, and waiting for the headlights to vibrate through your window. You practice scratching stick and pokes of unimportant things like 2D diamonds and triangles onto starved out hip bones and slices of ass cheek hanging out of DIY denim shorts. Listening to Lana del Rey in cars is writing poetry for English class with regrettable phrases like there is a war in my mind and I am living in a dark paradise because you accidently got addicted to cigarettes and can’t a ord so instead of smoking sexy Marlborough reds in a sundress and Ferrari jacket combo, in a condo somewhere high in the Hollywood hills.... Listening to Lana Del Rey in cars is smoking your nan’s stolen rollies or Pall Mall Menthols that Paul from Science sells for a dollar. Smoke them behind the gym or on the edge of a muddy soccer eld in your non-regulation knee socks and an embarrassing handmade owercrown.
Paraire 1 Tīhema
Friday 1 December