Through a season drenched in scant light and strewn with popped foil lozenge carcasses, whose contents promised a suppression to symptoms but no cure, I've been ruminating on whether or not to do this. What would it be for? Who'd want to know? Today however I resolved not to ruminate any longer and summoned the gumption with which I write; I suspect the impetus alone may eventually affect the cure to such ponderous inertia. After all, the inertia is the disorder itself, not a condition thereof.
I'm still not sure what this is about or if it's particularly necessary, but there is of course a twinge of 'want over need' to all this post-Christmas ball-watching anyway. Late morning Bank Holiday drives to a teeming retail morass and an overwhelming choice of fuck all. Try to redeem a voucher, pick up another virus. You don't need that.
The enjoyment of the newly-received Panda Bear CD - the contrast of purest melody with jarring arrangement and a suggestion of lyrical definition without actually giving much away, yet plenty to savour - is tempered by the toiled removal of a jewel case label residue (an import?) for what seems like the album's duration, and in turn the residual bother. I can't remember the last time I had to do that. It seems almost quaint.
But of course, I didn't really need to pour over that. And while the strict value of these despatches cannot as yet be surmised, their purpose may become clear in time. I have a rough plan.