Cognitive surrender, or the comforting nature of pop music

1. See, earlier, I was sitting on that incredibly uncomfortable sofa I bought because it’s the only one that would fit into that 1.20m gap; just sitting and moping a bit because, because, I won’t go into it, but moping I was, and J was engaged in his Coffee Making Experience (20 minutes) whilst going through yesterday’s acquisition: a Roughtrade compilation of obscure bands, and all I wanted to do was to hear, not to listen to it, just to hear it, the Bangles’
a hazy shade of winter. I know, it’s a cover.

2. One day, I was 14, I saw a girl dressed like I wasn’t, and a little something exploded in me; I thought: right, this is it, no more anonymous denim, or random perms, or thoughtless striped sweatshirts, and the next day I bought black fishnets and boots, don’t laugh, blogpeople. It was a real start for experimentation, sartorial risk-taking, and obscure goth bands.

3. Pop? I would say with scorn. I don’t listen to pop. Pop is for those who don’t know better, pop is regressive, pop is sugar candy, it will rot your teeth. There is no mystique to pop, pop is SAFE. Look at me! I’m right there on the edge, me, and I read goth fanzines, and Lautréamont; at night I burn the edges of the lyrical letters I write to my goth friends, parchment-like, with red wax seals, and I make myself long velvet skirts I’ll trip over. I have kept a Cindy Lauper album, because the girl can dress, though.

4. Everything was new when composing my character. Nothing was pointless, too remote, too futile. There was such a thing as infinity. I felt fire in me, and some talent, too, and yearning.

5. I’m trying hard to avoid the word ‘exciting.’ Can you tell?

6. And now I can’t stay up at night anymore, and even Roughtrade compilations are too obscure and cutting edge, and often, I want to listen to pop music, safe, undemanding pop music, be wrapped in its cotton wool of cognitive surrender.
Sometimes, I also wear denim; I don’t write lyrical letters anymore. I read detective novels.

I’m lazy; but more than anything I think I’m scared.

I need to make a little something explode in me.