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"Sit and drink pennyroyal tea.."
I do have stuff to say. Um... I did have stuff to say. I seem to have been defending my choice of music most of the day. Mention "Nirvana" to most of the people round here, and they immediately look at you like you've crawled out from under a stone.
This morning, when I was half asleep on the bus and listening to About a Girl, Sophie asked me, "So what are you? Like a smellie or a goth or something?"
I should have just said "yes" and left it at that. But no, me being me, I had to argue. I did try to get out of it by giving my stock answer: "Me? I'm alternative, me."
The irony/sarcasm of the statement was completely lost on them. Sophie then asked, "If you had to choose between normal clothes, you know, like jeans and a little white top, or a KoRn sweatshirt [hoodie, presumably] and a pair of big baggy jeans, what would you choose?"
"The baggy jeans, but not the hoody," said I, honestly. I wish I hadn't even got involved with the conversation now - she and her little friends, they were seriously looking at me like an escapee from the zoo. She also constantly referred to Nirvana as Nevada. "She listens to Nevada!"
"Nevada," I said scathingly, "is a southern state of America. Nirvana is Kurt Cobain's grunge band."
That conversation I was pleased with. But it's wrong. I hate being looked at like that.
Helena is more refreshing to talk to. "Nirvana? They're shite!
"Wrong tense verb," I said.
"They... were... shite, then. Happy?"
"No!"
"It's a mournful dirge!"
"He was suicidal!"
"So what?"
"So no wonder it was mournful?"
"Mosher!"
"Scally!"
There are times when I think I love her.
I just spoke to my mother. A few days ago, she sounded so terrible, so shaken up, but she now sounds so much better and I'm glad. She laughed, asked who was cooking and expressed jealousy when I told her about the carrot cake in the fridge. She'll be home in a few days, and I'm glad of it.
I need coffee. I seem to be constantly thirsty lately - Pedar thinks I may have diabetes, but not to worry. Sometimes I wonder what's going on in his head.
This morning, when I was half asleep on the bus and listening to About a Girl, Sophie asked me, "So what are you? Like a smellie or a goth or something?"
I should have just said "yes" and left it at that. But no, me being me, I had to argue. I did try to get out of it by giving my stock answer: "Me? I'm alternative, me."
The irony/sarcasm of the statement was completely lost on them. Sophie then asked, "If you had to choose between normal clothes, you know, like jeans and a little white top, or a KoRn sweatshirt [hoodie, presumably] and a pair of big baggy jeans, what would you choose?"
"The baggy jeans, but not the hoody," said I, honestly. I wish I hadn't even got involved with the conversation now - she and her little friends, they were seriously looking at me like an escapee from the zoo. She also constantly referred to Nirvana as Nevada. "She listens to Nevada!"
"Nevada," I said scathingly, "is a southern state of America. Nirvana is Kurt Cobain's grunge band."
That conversation I was pleased with. But it's wrong. I hate being looked at like that.
Helena is more refreshing to talk to. "Nirvana? They're shite!
"Wrong tense verb," I said.
"They... were... shite, then. Happy?"
"No!"
"It's a mournful dirge!"
"He was suicidal!"
"So what?"
"So no wonder it was mournful?"
"Mosher!"
"Scally!"
There are times when I think I love her.
I just spoke to my mother. A few days ago, she sounded so terrible, so shaken up, but she now sounds so much better and I'm glad. She laughed, asked who was cooking and expressed jealousy when I told her about the carrot cake in the fridge. She'll be home in a few days, and I'm glad of it.
I need coffee. I seem to be constantly thirsty lately - Pedar thinks I may have diabetes, but not to worry. Sometimes I wonder what's going on in his head.
no subject
Anyway, thank you for proving my point. I shall return to LotR now.