You kind of have to feel bad for Avril Lavinge. I mean, David Bowie was about forty when she was born.
As for me, I love David Bowie, always have. Although my husband sniffs his condecension when I say that I liked the Modern Love years, the whole China Girl and big suit and blonde hair thing. He’s much more into the whole Major tom/Ashes to Ashes and all that time, when Bowie was radical and not all homogenized (his word). Oh, well. To each his own. Maybe Avril should start with Modern Love and work her way back. Can’t hurt.
Today is Wednesday, and I have so much to do. Errands and such. I have to buy a new phone, because our one in the kitchen is acting up: it doesn’t want you to dial anything with an 8 in it. (Go figure.) Plus, sometimes, when all the other phones in the house start ringing, it just won’t, as if it’s holding out for some sort of principle, or something. Which I kind of admire, in a weird way. But I’m getting tired of sprinting to the bedroom and only getting to the phone there just as it switches over to the voicemail. Damn!
So I’ll go to Best Buy, and try to avoid the DVD aisle. And the CD aisle. I will walk with purpose, and frugality, to the phone area and get a phone and go straight to checkout, with no dawdling over new releases or wistfully wondering if today, maybe, should be the day I finally just break down and purchase Clueless or Titanic, finally. No. No.
(wish me luck)
have a good day, everyone…..