From: StringTheory27
To: DeadStrings
Date: May 20th, 1997, 1:42 PM
Subject: Re: Insomnia
I’m here.I read your message while sitting by the window, trying to drink more water.Apparently, that’s supposed to fix everything from fatigue to existential dread.
My happy news is that I slept more than five hours.That’s a record.The yoga class my best friend dragged me to helped more than those Tae?Bo classes she drags me to on Wednesday nights.
I’m no doctor, but you’re showing classic symptoms of rushingitis.Totally non-contagious, but wildly annoying.It strikes when someone has a goal and suddenly thinks they’re in a race against physics.And hey, I get it.Everything around you is shouting “new beginnings!”while your brain replays the same tired monologue.Kind of hard to believe in fresh starts when your inner narrator won’t shut up.
Just take a deep breath while looking at yourself in the mirror and say, “Chill.”
As for “Staring at the Sun” ...
You’re not wrong about Pop.It’s not their most cohesive work.But I wouldn’t call it bad.It’s more like they’re stretching past the version of themselves everyone got comfortable with—and maybe losing a bit of footing in the process.But I think that’s the point.
Artists who don’t evolve?They get stuck in an imitation.Of themselves.Of their hits.And after a while, you start to wonder if the music is the problem or if maybe they stopped being honest somewhere along the way.
Growth isn’t always graceful.Neither is reinvention.
Picasso had Blue, Rose, and Cubism.
Björk went from sugar pop to icy alien textures.She currently sounds like heartbreak in alien code—totally respectable.
Even Dylan got booed when he went electric.
The great ones lean into discomfort, even if it alienates their own fans.That’s how you find your next truth.
So, yeah, Pop is weird.It’s awkward.It’s U2 in transition.
But they get points from me for not standing still.
It’s a song wrapped in denial, like someone smiling while everything behind them quietly burns.There’s a moment where it admits that looking too closely—at yourself, at the truth—might reveal more than you’re ready to face.That fear of seeing what’s buried inside?It’s universal.
Bono says it like it’s already been accepted, like the damage has been done and now we’re just pretending it’s daylight.
It’s for people like us, who squint through life, hoping that if we don’t look directly at the pain, it won’t consume us.But we know it’s there.The song isn’t offering solutions—it’s calling us out for avoiding the mirror.
The hazy guitars, the almost lazy rhythm—they’re not sleepy.They’re tired.Tired of pretending.Tired of the performance.
And maybe that’s why it didn’t land for you—because you’re not in the denial part anymore.You’re awake.
You no longer need an anthem to pretend things are fine.
You need something that can hold your honesty without blinking.
Still, there’s something brave in how it lays out the fear of looking inward.It says: “You’re not alone in pretending.But you also don’t have to stay here.”
Anyway, pick something with a little more teeth next time if you want to stay up at 3 a.m.
But don’t sleep on the meaning.
Even when the music doesn’t move you, sometimes the words will.
ChapterSixty-Nine
