Monday, November 19, 2012

White Rabbit

I cannot stop listening to Jefferson Airplane. How fantastic, how absolutely fucking fantastic. 'Surrealistic Pillow' is playing on Youtube, and I'm writing a term paper that I'm not hating (surprisingly). If only there weren't deadlines. If only I hadn't spent my weekend watching Woody Allen films and cooking chicken with lots of onions. Onions are my favourite ingredients when I'm doing the cooking. Onions and garlic. I can't stand onions raw, but the initial sautéing of onions gives off one of the very few smells that I can actually smell- the official term for lacking a sense of smell is anosmia- I don't actually know if I have it since I've never asked a doctor, but it certainly is true that my sense of smell leaves much to be desired.
I love the feeling of discovering a new favourite album, discovering that thing that you missed in something you'd vaguely heard before. The thought just struck me that this is true for people too. It's happened before with me.
All my favourites are old.

"I can but dance behind your smile
You were the world to me for a while"

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