It's one of those moods. Where there's a weird sort of tug right behind your eyes, suspiciously around the tear duct area. Just that there are no signs of any tears, thank God for that. Just an inexplicable lump in the throat. Priscilla Ahn is saying that she's old and feeling grey and doesn't know what's left to say about this life she's willing to leave, and as I write this she reaches that beautiful, soaring crescendo that makes this song oh-so-beautiful, and dammit, fuck man, there's that tug again. And I don't know why exactly I'm doing this to myself, because "Chicago" is next on the playlist - I've made one of those playlists, the kind that consist only of songs loaded with memories of times that'll never come back, but you insist on reliving them over and over again, because of the unspeakable joy they bring. And now the sound of that saxophone is filling my room. Athena will know what I'm talking about.

I started off wanting to write a sort of post ('rant' is more like it) about people who seem to have mastered the inexplicable art of expressing profuse love online for people they'd bitch out in an instant.

Erase and Rewind. Coz I've been changing my mind.