Sweet hell, Amanda Palmer's "Want It Back" is ripping my guts into pieces. If they still made cassette singles, I would have worn it out.
I am a total sap when it comes to relationships, and I clung tightly to the Smiths like so many moody 80's babies. I have my own place, car, job that pays the bills, but I never stopped being 15 and spending shit-tons of money on new tapes and CD's.
The Amanda (don't call me Robert) Palmer track was fucking time travel. Not soundwise, but getting that giddy feeling that you're part of something special. Where does that magic go? As people grow older, the rational robs the world of the uninhibited bare-bones rush of new experience? Is nothing new, or do we stop looking for it? Or run as fast as we can when we find it?
I don't know what it's like to be pursued or chased. Would I be flattered or annoyed? I've been in the other car every time. I'm tired of being in this race, period. Those games people play in high school don't change. The players only get better.
This might as well be bad breakup poetry at this point. I'm no different. Glass houses and such.
I'll be back. Maybe I'll invest in a proper keyboard at some point.
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