voyage into the uptight, part one (this town smells like tears)

A cat yowling away somewhere outside my bedroom woke me up this morning. I don't know what was wrong with it, but it was really emoting, for a cat. Maybe there were even 2 cats fighting, maybe it was genuine for-real 'caterwauling'. I don't know. I had the idea it was just one cat, upset about something. I looked around outside for it a little later - cautiously, there's lots of strays around here and sometimes one turns up with rabies - but didn't see anything. Anyway, it was time to get up. I had to get to Blockbuster to return some awful movies that some idiot had rented.

On the way to the video store I was listening to a little Neil Young. Me and Neil, rockin' in the free world. It got me to thinking again about music, and my tortured and largely uptight history as a listener, as a fan. So, I thought I would take a stab at writing about it. Some rambly, half-assed, off the top of my head kinda stuff no doubt, but I feel like, eh, 'thinking in text'. I feel so pretentious, yet awkward.

( and so )

voyage into the uptight, part two (the detective's bible)

Further insight into the high priority I once assigned to checking out more than just the greatest hits.

There's some kind of thing going around right now, an autobiography bug, and a talking about music bug. It's going on around me, I mean, And sort of colliding a little here.

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