if you think that i'm nothing

Time:	4:42 pm.
Mood:	happy.
Music:	david daniels - ch'io parta? (Handel, Partenope).

I love charity shops.

I now own two ian fleming novels, one paperback cromwell biography, some scary Women's Press sci-fi, some random fantasy which will probably be completely unreadable, a mad catholic book on the Mass, and crime novels i ain't yet read by allingham, marsh and simenon. Plus, it seemed as if some indieboy's ex-girlfriend had thrown out his music collection, and thus i managed to pick up a load of stuff i never got round to buying when it came out - king biscuit time sings nelly foggin's blues in me and the pharoahs, the clam abuse record (...heh.), some gallon drunk, an old free kerrang! cd and a few random singles.

Aaaaaand /then/ I went off and bought a David Daniels record. Because I wuv him more than words can say. [*heart*, *heart*] And it's with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, who are bloody good, and... Handel! eeeeeeeee! Radio Three reminded me i wanted something by him this afternoon at work, bless it.

I'm /such a freak/.

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Subject:	do not listen to a word i say - just listen to what i cannot keep silent.
Time:	8:53 pm.
Music:	manic street preachers - this is yesterday.

written yesterday, but i forgot to post it because lj wasn't being nice and then... i went to bed. so.

It's been seven years.

But they're not declaring him dead, yet.

Which is an oblique way of saying: here cometh the obligatory Richey remembrance. You don't have to read it: for some reason, I thought I should write it.

( cut for manics quotes, thoughts, stuff. )

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