This is my study break

Because Robyn is awesome, and makes life worth living.

Age

doom

I wish I loved Cat Stevens as much as I did when I was 13

At some point I used to listen to Cat Stevens. And his songs filled me up with happy feelings. I associated them with afternoons in middle school when I would sit with my best friend (we would make an unsuccessful foray into boyfriend-girlfriend hood a couple of years after this) and sing Beatles and Cat Stevens songs. He made me a mixed tape with Tea for the Tillerman and a couple of songs of Sheryl Crow. She hadn't hit her beach bum stage yet. One of our long standing discussions was why we didn't know of more famous female rock stars, feminist before we had learnt the vocabulary.

Soon after I turned 18 my friend died. I don't listen to Cat Stevens very much any more. At first it hurt too much because of memories of a best friend and high school boyfriend. And later he stopped making sense. The sweetness of his music no longer related very well to the somewhat more chaotic and bewildering turn that my life was taking. I discovered the Postal Service, where every song was deep and meaningful. Death Cab for Cutie, who have written an accompaniment to every kind of heartbreak.

And now I wish I could go back to having the kind of relationship I used to have with the music I listened to.  I wish I wasn't listening to Adele and singing along in her anger and rage, but just listening to her because her songs are fun. This isn't because my life is all longing, tears, heartbreak or rage. Far from it. But for some reason the music I listen to is. I am going to set about fixing this. I don't see myself going back to my Simon and Garfunkel days, but perhaps there is hope beyond this current swamp of moody indie dominated stuff.

turning this blog into a shrine

since i havent had a thought except for 'hugh laurie' i my head for the last week, i have decided to stop fighting the obsession and just go with the flow.

so i am going to inform all of you esteemed readers that this blog will now function as a shrine to the man. if i must suffer alternating pangs of lust and lovelorn-ness then i must document this return to fangirldom.

today i downloaded a bbc miniseries just because he was in it. i don't even like criminal-thriller type things from the 90's. euw.

i have also watched every single interview with hugh laurie on youtube.

i am now listening to his protest song. which i am enjoying so much i shall leave you another song instead.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYhsbQ6VxqA

despite the fact that he's singing with an american accent, despite the fact that he is not from the deep south and singing the blues, i like the album. but this might be because my brain has been evacuated and hugh laurie shaped bubbles of love are occupying it instead.

emo behaviour

when your last few months can be described by a series of garbage songs life hasn't been very kind as you need to take a chill pill.

stop listening to garbage and renew your acquaintance with the dandy warhols.

or find someone new like beirut: you can stop relating your life to every song because none of them seem to hang together, nothing is more tragic than it is beautiful, and since the words are hard to catch you can't miserably wail along (drunken or otherwise).

this is the path to happiness on your ipod.

baby steps. soon we can extend this to other parts of life.