He is vile. She handles him with brilliant wit and poise.
He is vile. She handles him with brilliant wit and poise.
Here endeth tonight’s time capsule.
1992 was also the year I got glandular fever (Epstein-Barr virus), which was to lead to three years spent mostly in bed, ill with chronic fatigue syndrome/M.E., physically broken and depressed as fuck, while everyone else my age got on with having teenage fun. The radio literally saved my life.
I finally got a boombox that I could tape stuff off the radio with in 1992. These songs I’m posting tonight from that time occupy an indelible place in me for that reason… and they all happen to be songs about melancholy and memory, strangely, too.
This song, tonight, though.
Psych music for driving to work on a Sunday. 🌹