(no subject)

Pathetic confession of the day: I'll have to make a dentist appointment sooner rather than later; as in, call next week, you stupid, procrastinating coward. The pathetic part is that I'm so. fucking. scared. I haven't been in entirely too long and while I'm not in a state of pain that requires painkillers or even aspirin, something is slightly but persistently hurting (perhaps, but that may be wishful thinking, wisdom-tooth related) and the rational part of my brain is strong enough to, well, be rational in such cases, but still. So scared. Rationally I know that I can (and WILL!) get local anaesthesia, and nothing will actually hurt all that much, but a big part of me isn't convinced at all, and at least wishes there's be someone I could ask to drag me there go with me and hold my hand...


At least not that I've told you all, I'm comiitted.

(no subject)

Strange. I (re-)watched the Ziggy Stardust concert movie on DVD, bought on a nostalgic impulse, and what baffles me most is my detachment. I've seen this so many times that even after ten years or more there's this incredible sense of familiarity, where very little is surprising and I still almost remember every move, every gesture, every face from the crowd. But what has disappeared entirely, to the point where I can't even recapture a remote echo of it, is the emotional reaction I used to have back in my fangirl days. I can't recapture what had fascinated and attracted me so much then, not even a memory of how it felt. And Bowie was my big teenage crush, life-sized poster on the wall, dozens of other posters, collecting cuttings from papers and magazines, watching every movie every time it was played in any cinema's summer program, large record collection, fanclub even, and did I mention The Crush?

I still listen to the music occasionally, still like it in an abstract way, but there is no emotional connection to it any longer, it's as if I'd entirely burned out in this respect. There's a lot of crappy eighties pop that gets a stronger gut reaction out of me.

When I got an autograph from David Bowie six, seven years ago, after the last show I saw, I wondered with a sense of melancholy nostalgia about how things tend to happen when they don't mean all that much any longer. Now I'm looking back and I wonder who this girl was who felt so strongly about this person (image of person?), and why she chose to do so...