Some Kind of Incendiary Device

Mood: Resigned
Listening To: 'Call Me on Your Way Back Home,' Ryan Adams
Reading: An address
Watching: Layer Cake
Eating: Bunnies
Drinking: Nog

I'm thinking, this song is one of the best-written depressing angst songs in the world. 'Well, I miss you. Honey, ain't nothin' new' is one of the greatest pieces of strategic simplicity in the world. The gentle, bluesy guitar in the background, the occasional off note in his voice, it's all a fantastic way to reach into your gut and tug something. Even if you've never felt what he's singing about, he's got a way of making you know exactly what he's talking about. And feel pretty sodding glad that you don't have to deal with it.
Honestly, this is probably a really bad attitude coming from someone who's torn consistently between being a hopeful, bright-eyed romantic and a complete misogynistic cynic, but I am so glad I've never been as miserable as he is in this song. 'I just wanna die without you.' I mean, we've all been a bit depressed when someone's gone, maybe even felt physically ill for a couple of days or something, and yes, wanting to roll over and not do anything much for a while, I understand. But something of that measure? Sounds like someone with absolutely no foresight. Or perhaps too much.
See, there? That last bit is the ruddy romantic in me. Wretched little bint, who thinks everything's daisies and sunflowers, and rivers of jasmine tea.
I had a dream last night, that I was Russell Crowe, that I was walking round a sheep ranch, and that some little outback bandit stabbed me in the neck, and it wasn't fatal, but it was fairly annoying, and some quack doctor said that I was going to die over a matter of months.
Which brings me to the next song on my playlist, that is, 'Wild Horses' by the Stones. I do love this song. The fact that Jagger tugged this out of his substance-befuddled brain after writing so many sex, drugs, and rawk'n'roll songs is really admirable. I mean...honestly, now, something as soulful and easy going, and...there.
Anyhow, I'm picky about lyrics. Good ones. The right ones smack you upside the head, without the pain, just a slow, safe realisation that 'holy Mary, this is some good stuff.' The rubbish ones do the same thing, but with a very quick, very unwholesome feeling of 'oh Lord, someone actually had to write this dreck.'
The first time I heard the song 'We Are the World' I had that feeling. 'Someone...a real human being...had to come up with this, and finance it, produce and record it, and all that nonsense.' I was very depressed for about five minutes, after which something better came on, and I felt a little better.
But, to end this nonsense on a happier note, I am going to go inflict upon myself some pain, which I can then languidly enjoy for the next two weeks. Bring on the languor.