It's Edith Piaf I listen to. It has to be; I'm in a fragile kind of way and her voice levitates my spirit to tranquil heights. Vashti Bunyan would work, too; it was her Glow Worms that broadcast in my mind unbidden earlier in the day when I was not in a good way. If I had known about her when I was going through the horrors of panic disorder years ago, I would have overcome it much quicker.
I only want to be around women tonight. So it's Edith Piaf, Vashti, and now it's Elysian Fields (I'm resting in your voice like an infant, Jennifer), earlier tonight it was Lhasa De Sela (I wish I got to see you live). Is it The Divine Mother, in various guises, that comforts me? A case could be made.
Today was a tough one. It was the type of day you spill out from directly into the embrace of someone warm and welcoming. I could make love to a hundred women right now.
I had dreams last night that I haven't been able topiece together into any thing cohesive. Murky recollections of old friends, the past, a party....It's a pity I can't remember more. Seems I was having a splendid time.
My iPod went through the wash and then the dryer. Things looked grim. It was unresponsive and I had to restore its settings. It works, but the screen doesn't light up. I can barely navigate the menu - I have to hold it to the light at just the right angle. Still, I'm not complaining; glad I still get to use it. A small victory for team Kevin.
G'night.
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