keeps getting in the way.
my own little world
becoming shabby and neglected.
rotting, crumbling, flaking.
dust, rust, cobwebs, cracks,
and never enough time
to fix one thing.
(was that some kind of lame attempt at poetry, or were those just my thoughts?)
I’m listening to the kind of music my parents would always put on when I was little. It’s making me think of that beautiful grass-and-asphalt-drying smell after a short sharp shower on a Summer evening. Unexpectedly comforting.
So here is my favourite Roy Orbison:
He was one of Dad’s favourites, for a while. (Which may surprise you a little if you remember my mentioning this stuff before).
It was either him or ELO, but I think ELO already get enough attention. R.I.P. Roy.
Happy Friday, and warm fuzzies to y’all.