Monday, 5 October 2009
Let's go to the Twitter tab to see what's happening. More studio time, alleged sightings, video shoot. Nothing to refresh the weary eyes or appease the ears screaming themselves deaf in the agony of radio silence. Another sigh. Wandering over to the bookmarks that have gradually become invisible to jaded eyes, brushing the cobwebs off old important items still indexed at the back of the mind. Temporary relief. Oh, I'd forgotten he'd said that in the interview. The discussion going on over there used to be quite interesting. That was a great article. He looked so different, so young back in that performance. I ought to organise all my media and links.
A pang of hunger needing future certainty snapping attention back to the present. The F5 key once a matt surface now a smooth sheen, polished by keen fingertips, its lettering patchy and barely visible. The loud stiff click now soft and muted. Back to eagerly hitting F5. Ooh, new photos? Nope. Just new old photos. Sigh. Shoulders hunching, chin increasingly heavy and tipping in cupped hand, bending back a resigned wrist. Still no date. Restive leg shaking in indefinite suspense. Lets check YouTube, see if there's anything new. Nope, just some more fan videos and re-posted stuff. F5. Could this be THE link? Sharp intake of breath. What? Where's the song? False alarm. Sinking back, taking another deep, agitated sigh. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tick... Tick... Tick... TapTapTap. Tick ... Tick . . . Tick . . .