A vision of love…
boxing gloves…
hearts and flowers

Like, a month ago, that song, “Somewhere in my Heart”, popped into my head and kicked around in the vacant space there for a few days. Goddam, I thought, I miss that catchy old tune, and how I wish I could hear it again.

A week later, CD shoping with Jeremy, and look! It’s the Best of Aztec Camera. Well, you’d think it was a sign too, wouldn’t you? And you’d buy it. And so I did, and took it home, and played it. And really, apart from that “Somewhere in my Heart” song and a couple of other almost as catchy but not quite numbers, the disk was packed (to the gills… genetically modified CD) with those awful dreary George Michael type ballads.

So I listened to the entire disk over and over again, over the next three days, to see if I really wanted to exchange it for somefink else (toss up between REM “Out of Time” and Whitney Houston “Whitney!”… er, for old times’ sake), and after about the tenth listening it wasn’t really that objectionable anymore.

Which goes to show – and I’m sure this shows plenty, but this in particular was shown to me — that bad music can really wear you down, dull your standards, so that it appears to be merely mediocre music.

Thanks be to Allah I have found my Michael Penn tape.

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before i had a “blog”, i used to write a sporadically updated letter on the front page of my website. this is one of them. i am consolidating it into these archives, because i can.