This is one morose blog (like all the previous ones). This is a clumsy spittoon for times when the bad taste overwhelms the mouth and refuse to be gulped down. I think the weather is changing, the sunshine more golden and late evening walks pleasantly shivery and then and then the long afternoons of flavoured tea and conversations at Dolly’s but I won’t know anything about these till Monday and these last few days, the last few days, hours, minutes, seconds are the worst. I want to sleep but I must listen to hours of music and analyse them and read Wikipedia articles on them and fortify myself against their attack and I have never, never, never hated (some of) my favourite music more.
And then all of December I have nothing to do, nothing to dooooo.
And this is such a juvenile post. How old are you, writer? Fifteen?
Oh, but you musn’t hate your favourite music for too long! When your favourite music takes revenge, the world dies.
Oh, Dolly’s!… Yes, I know… I remember… And I miss…
i can invent things to do. are you amenable to traveling? anywhere but the mountains?
Aaah, that blasted Rock Music exam.