Thanks for the link, Steve! I'd never heard this song (lyrics pasted below), but agree with your suggestion that a sort of late-stage, exhausted, un-transcendent transcendentalism is lamented here. Whitman seems even more relevant than Emerson, perhaps, as the ironic backdrop for that lament -- as if this is what, to borrow a little from T.S. Eliot, all the celebration, sensory pleasure, and self-affirmation have produced at last, not a bang of elevated awareness but only a bored whimper.
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Bored in the USA
Father John Misty
How many people rise and say
"My brain's so awfully glad to be here
For yet another mindless day"?
I've got all morning to obsessively accrue
A small nation of meaningful objects
And they've got to represent me too
By this afternoon, I'll live in debt
By tomorrow, be replaced by children
How many people rise and think
"Oh good, the stranger's body's still here
Our arrangement hasn't changed?"
Now I've got a lifetime to consider all the ways
I've grown more disappointing to you
As my beauty warps and fades
I suspect you feel the same
When I was young, I dreamt of a passionate obligation to a roommate
Is this the part where I get all I ever wanted?
Who said that?
Can I get my money back?
Just a little bored in the USA
Oh, just a little bored in the USA
Save me, white Jesus
Bored in the USA
Oh, they gave me a useless education
And a subprime loan
On a craftsman home
Keep my prescriptions filled
And now I can't get off
But I can kind of deal
Oh, with being bored in the USA
Oh, just a little bored in the USA
Save me, President Jesus
I'm bored in the USA
How did it happen?
Bored in the USA
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