So, yeah, the whole Timberlake-Fuzzy dolphin suit-Flaming Lips-TOTP thing kinda passed me by, but that's okay, because it's going to be repeated at 2:20am. Which is my kinda time of day. ...it's sent me into a state of '?????', because, well, what do you think the conversation was that set that up? Admittedly, it's Wayne Coyne, who is a space alien (out of this world 'cept he's not green, no less) on a par with no-one else except possibly that guy from The Polyphonic Spree, and thus seems like perfectly normal behaviour - if they guy can think up Zaireeka, he can certainly convince The Timberlake to dance about with a bass (he can play?) and be glomped onto by a huuuuge bunny. Can't quite work out how that would have gone, though. Probably mind control. (and anyway, Timberlake's just following in the steps of Elijah Wood, innee?)

...aaaaand now I have 'Waterbug' in my head.

I'm buying more music at the moment than ever: stupidly, though, I got 'breaking god's heart' on 12" at a time when my room contains two record players, neither of which actually work. One of them's a good fifty years old, and may be forgiven: the other is brand new, and just seems to hate my tape-deck-and-line-in setup. Cry!

My discman, which has served doubletime as both portable music source and stationary CD player since 1998, is finally beginning to show the wear of four years' having "i have no fear of this machine" scribbled across it in blue permanent marker and being bashed about in the bottom of numerous bags. Oh, skipping CDs, what a joy. Especially when I'm trying to listen to the Manics and write serious!fic!: an impossibility anyway, because for every Deep And Meaningful Richey Lyric there is a corresponding JDB atrocity against proper intonation. "You will be buried in the same box AZAKEELA!", indeed. And I'm sorry, but "the intense humming of evil" is a crap song title. February, as Richey Month, deserves a Manics-themed layout, but I've already had to scrap my original idea on the grounds that no-one on my friends list would ever speak to me again. It's not my fault that the most iconic image of my teens just happens to run up against most people's squick senses (Steve Lamacq: "It says '4 REAL' down there. It doesn't say 'T REX'."). Ahh, days of my youth, when the best way to rebel was to have a copy of that picture in your school folder. The world's been so calm since those heady days.

It'll have to be the Black Horse Apocalypse layout instead, then.