Well, the good news is, I didn't do any NyQuil last night. The bad news is, I've got sinus drainage like you wouldn't believe, and my night visions still seemed chemically altered: I dreamed of Humphrey Bogart stalking Gertrude Stein Most Dangerous Game-style. Does that make any sense? From what possible part of my subconscious did that arrive?
So I guess my point is, don't look for any cogent analysis of anything around here. Between the watery eyes and the runny nose and the hacked-up phlegm, it's all I can do to type. But I'm going to bring some entertainment, dammit, from one of my favorite bands, Sparks, with a song from their most recent album, Exotic Creatures Of The Deep.
Someday I'll get around to writing about just how great a band Sparks is, and why. But first, a pointless personal aside: Many years ago--so far it seems like a whole other life--I spent some time with, to use her phrase, a recovering Goth chick. At least, she said she was recovering, but she still wore black mascara and wore a The Queen Is Dead t-shirt. And, needless to say, was obsessed with Morrissey. Not to the level of her obsessions with Kate Bush, Anne Rice and The Bell Jar, but still, she had a mini-poster of The Sainted One over her bed, which was a bit of a buzzkill. We only dated for a little over a month, and ultimately my feelings for her were as ambiguous as her sexuality, but still, this song makes me think of her.
The title? Lighten Up, Morrissey.