Rehearsed in reverse.
There are days when I simply feel like posting the lyrics to songs that loop endlessly in my head, because they sum up in mere words how I feel about you, me and everything else.
I try not to, lest I have /another uninnocent elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults/; /I am not stupid I swear, I read the foreign news to understand my nation/. This is never part of /our deal/, and I am not sure if I would prefer /walking on spiders/, though they can be /quiet company/. /Every night my teeth are falling out/ and when /I leaned on the wall and the wall leaned away/, I have a feeling that things will soon get /complicated in the eye of the storm/.
But sometimes I annoy even myself and cannot help but do exactly that.
And then there are days when I contemplate having a personal social media week instead – one that would see me notably reciting lines to the songs that I love, shamelessly declaring my many musical obsessions to all and sundry, and diligently replying to my own comments. That last one in particular would be a hoot, and I reckon the chances of me attracting only blank stares and hearing the sounds of crickets chirping quietly in the background, are significantly higher than the abysmal expectations that I usually put on myself.
Of course, me being me, I love mystery – so I can assure you that I am not the amateur guitarist you saw attempting an acoustic version of a classic rock song on national television the other day; nor am I your cousin’s friend’s colleague’s daughter’s former neighbour. Really. I could be your sister’s ex-schoolmate, however…