Ink
I am a fidgety person & ever have been. Chief among the nasty habits flowing from this need for my hands to be busy has been my predilection to scratch & pick at scabs, this retarding the healing process. (Gross, I know; sorry, I should have warned you.) My new tattoo is in the process of peeling, sloughing off the damaged epidermal layers. I'm not picking at it, not doing what I can to "help the process along," & this inaction is ever so gradually nudging me toward madness. Oh, I cannot wait for the coming day when the cute lil' flying saucer robot is as worn & weather-beaten as the skull-&-crossbones! Idiomatically that's true, but since the phrase is nonsense & of course I must wait I am taking this travail as an opportunity to bolster my always-in-need-of-improvement capacity for self-discipline.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Dogpiss, "Erik Sandin's Stand-In" from Short Music for Short People (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I woke up this morning with this obnoxious, abrasive little ditty in my head; so, now I'm inflicting in on you. Company might not love misery, but misery sure loves company.

Dienstag, 17 Mai
Spandau Ballet, "True" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: In addition to the Spandau Ballet original, my music library also contains shorter—sans sweet sax solo—covers of "True" by Duvall & Paul Anka (the singer, not Lorelai Gilmore's dog).