It is so nice to be home. After living in 9
different places by the age of 23, you forget what it feels like quite quickly.
It doesn’t necessarily make me any happier,
as I know what I want in order to be happy now. That is you, by the way. Every day
is a battle to strengthen my patience but my will to wait is tenacious now.
So
where are you now?
Whilst enjoying a mug of soy cappuccino –
fixing the damage caused by glasses of Tom Collins and Champagne, I have had a
good look through my iTunes and I have realised how much of a huge mess it
is. A pretty fantastic mess never the
less.
Music either carries your most important
memories or none at all. I think the secret is to listen to more music and less
advice. It’s interesting to see the story my ‘most played’ portrays, the times
of sheer panic and the wishful dreams.
Falling
from high places, falling through lost spaces
To add to the variable collection I’ve got
the mandatory free U2 album, no thanks
apple. I would never normally refuse a free album but when I switch on
shuffle and Bono starts crooning out my speakers, it just bores my ears to
deafness.
I have a shopping list of new music. I just
need a bit of pocket money to acquire it all.
Watch this space.
Because
you know I’m all about that bass, about that bass, no treble
I only have one created playlist, named
Snazzy, consisting of pre-drink songs that range from tacky Cash Cash – Take Me
Home to Sean Paul to gutsy Muse – Panic Station. My inner music snob is
ashamed, but when I am drowning myself in gin for a chance to get you out of my
head, then I can justify the
electronic plastic cheese.
If
loving you kills me tonight, then I was ready for death the moment you said
hello