Blue Fever

Blue Fever

Writing your heart out

MusicPosted by Stella Sat, October 30, 2010 11:43:34
This isn't really music as much as music journalistic angles but it'll pass I'd say.

First things first - I've been thinking..

London gives you bruises. Really. I am back in Sweden for a little bit of recovery and meeting all my missed friends and I find myself a bit.. disabled. My ribcage is ripped to pieces from New Slang. This in itself is so ironic because it was The Wombats playing. I've always had (and still do) them down for a bit of fun because it isn't actually hardcore listening now is it? And yet it was worse standing in the front for Wombats, than it was standing 3 metres away from Josh Homme. I walked down the stairs a minute ago and it was agony because my boobs are basically the same as my ribcage. So that's a huge bruise. I have no voice left, mostly because I'm a twat legend when I'm drunk and can't think of anything more fun than screaming even more when I realize my voice is checking out. My legs are blue, my feet wouldn't mind a bit of tlc and my stomach probably doesn't remember what healthy food is.

It's always been like this. Every time I return from London it's like "Return of the crackwhore". Feel a bit bad about it since I just want to stay home and spend my vacation in bed. Oh well, I guess my family and friends are used to it by now, they are totally giving up on me.

Moving on.

I met my hero yesterday. It was writer's night at the library and I got to meet Andres Lokko. The best that swedish journalism has to offer. I still can't really believe it, but all I can say is that he makes up for his huge culture snobbery with a massive pinch of irony to everything he says. The guy's a legend.

Gonna take some of that inspiration and put it into my piece about buskers for FRESH. Thought that ought to be quite easy, seeing as they are always out and about, but no. Buskers seem to be the worst kind, all of them acting like rock stars. Don't answer the phone, don't wanna talk about it, don't have time, oh so busy. Oh well, I'll get them.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go and treasure the fact that I for four days ahead will have a real dishwasher.

A bientot

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