Have you ever fallen, instantly, in love? With music? You only know a song or two, but you're stared in the face with a half-remember melody and the CD cover, and you say, "What the hell?" and but the whole damn album, anyway. Sometimes, you only recognize a title, a single line, but that's all it takes. It isn't forced; you just know. You want to listen to the song you only vaguely remember, but you start from the beginning, to be fair - no waiting, no whining, without a fight. Wo cares about the money? It's natural.
By day two, you know every line. You have your favorites. And that album is all you need.
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Which came first - the hair care product or the dessert? I don't think that naming process makes sense either way.
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I miss Boston. I miss it with that pain in my chest when I realize I'll only be there for a day or two next month before gallivanting off for my European adventures at Kasteel Well. I'm not complaining and I don't meant to sound ungrateful. But Boston - shit, it became my home this past year. There's so much to see and do, so much I want to revisit and so much I'm sure I missed the first time around. It will be far too long until I can play Mario in the common room and microwave popcorn for lunch and wander Quincy Market and run down the block to class and go to the Museum of Sciene and ride the T wherever I damn well please and see everyone and do everything and just be free in a place I've come to love.
It hurts.
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