What's the buzz, tell me what's a happenin'...
Uh. Nothing.
No, really. I always think during the day, before I've showered and eaten and prepared for the time when I might actually do something that I'll actually do something.
I do things - watch television shows I missed while I was at school, go shopping, try to arrange my junk and make it look decent in the spare room I have once again taken over on top of my own room. The spare room will be occupied temporarily in a few weeks while my aunt and uncle visit and my mother does not want my junk to be an eye sore. I admit it is one. But I don't know what to do with old CDs I don't really listen to anymore. Especially since the advent of MP3s and my ability to figure out whether I really want a CD yet. Mostly, I've bought classics (in my opinion) lately. Old things are bad. Like Sarah McLachlan. I was going through a phase, I swear.
Speaking of music, I heard this song, "Drops of Jupiter" by Train. I assume they're a new band. They sound like the Black Crowes, which is why I think I was so attracted to the song. It's a good groove, and heavy on piano, which is always good. The Black Crowes with guitar. Yum. Tailored for me. And those who have my eclectic taste in music.
Oh, I've decided I'm absolutely enamoured of Lindsey from Angel. Even if he does have an evil spare part hand. And potentially left the show forever in the last episode. But damn he's cute playing the guitar. He's also got the look that makes me stop and look again. and again and again and again. I don't care if he's evil. Just goes to show that I can pull a Luce and love the evil characters too. He plays guitar. And in real life wears cowboy hats. I can completely go for that. Don't I own a cowboy hat? Wouldn't I own a pair of cowboy boots if I could get my damned misshapen feet into a pair (stupid high arches)?
Aw, shucks. Me and that cowboy fetish. I want to dress like a school marm and have the dirty, dusty cowboys try to court me, turn me into a wild cowgirl. And I don't even like cows. :o) That is what life is about. Why wasn't I born in the old west?
© lily keller 2001
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