I had a thing in mind I wanted to write about today--it was about the summer and fall of 1977, the year I first started listening to the radio, and how the seemingly bland and innocuous Top 40 ballads We're All Alone and Dust In The Wind both featured amazingly fatalistic lyrics, and whether constant exposure to aural wallpaper that reminded me of my mortality somehow contributed to the crippling depression and suicidal thoughts that would manifest themselves a few years later. (Short answer: Probably not, but it certainly didn't help.)
Obviously, I haven't actually written that piece. Or the one where I explain why I'm not really obsessed with Star Wars, or the one where I wrestle yet again with my inability to make a relationship last, or the one where...you get the idea. I can crank out stuff about the dog and cats by the yard, but after so many times, how interesting is that? Then again, how interesting is anything? And what's the point, since we're all gonna die anyway? Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky, man. Dust in the wind...
Sorry. Got kind of distracted there. The point is...um...something. Something about how regular posting might resume here in the near future? Or not? Yes, something like that...
I should probably provide some actual entertainment here, shouldn't I? This is all I've got. It's more than enough, though, isn't it?
