I'm a terrible cliche. It's 6am on Saturday morning and I'm up listening to Sufjan Stevens, feeling very ninth-grade crush, pretending he's my valentine. Morning insomnia is particularly raw. It's dark and then it's light. It's dark, then it's light, and then there's YouTube. So there's a ton of Sufjan on YouTube, although none of it equals the live show I saw of him with Ben in that beautiful glass room at Lincoln Center.
In my madrugada Sufjan trawling I came across the only thing more heartbreaking than a Sufjan Stevens song: earnest indie kids alone in their rooms covering Sufjan Stevens songs. Which brings me to my new obsession, Cougarman7. Cougarman7, age 22, is my new Instanet crush (possibly my first Instanet crush, god please don't let it be my last). Not only is he going to sit in his room and play acoustic songs and sing, he is going to teach me how to play them. I know it is love because I feel giddy and then immediately like I might cry when his voice cracks on "Chicago," when he stares meaningfully right at the rakishly tilted camera. My mind sort of shuts down when I think that his name is Cougarman7 and he has 13 completely captivating instructional videos of himself playing Sufjan Stevens songs on the Internet and sometimes he's wearing a thoroughly appropriate ski hat. Just look.
Nota bene: Do not miss Cougarman7 playing "For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti" on the banjo while perched on a log in the Redwood Forest. Genius.