#nedison

[genteelblackhole42]

A song beyond the range of human hearing, please :)

4'33" by John Cage. (The only answer I could possibly give to this question!)

[microsuedemouse]

if you're still doing spotify prompts, i've been bingeing all your abedison fics and crave more, so—abedison & 99?

OKAY HI,,

first of all: Oh My God Sorry

I actually started this like, the day after you asked? but then it fought with me a little and I was like 'okay I'll put it down and reassess after a day or two' and then I proceeded to remember it needed finishing only at the least convenient possible times for like two weeks. I apologise. my brain is irredeemably broken in several ways

(ETA: jfc I just realised I managed to leave this long enough that you have MOVED BLOGS. @gingerteaonthetardis I am very sorry lmfaooo)

aaaaanyway--

I love this song for Annie and Abed both as characters, but it was a little trickier for me to figure out how I wanted to use it in a shippier sense, given that it's not really a romance sorta track. but! I think I finally cracked it. I hope you'll like it too <3

(also I will post this on AO3 as well, like I did the others!)

Reflections | 1 615 words | G

Destiny is overrated, so I think I’ll write my own I don’t believe it’s complicated, so I think I’ll stay at home I followed the leader Now I just follow myself

Abed idled in the car by the curb, watching Annie emerge from her building alongside a coworker. The man was tall, all straight white teeth and well-styled hair and tailored pants – when Britta had visited them last month, she'd dubbed him ‘the handsome one.’ As he and Annie strode down the office’s front steps toward the sidewalk, he gave her a winning smile, head cocked to one side and hands spread like he was doing his best to persuade her of something.

Abed had the windows cracked for some air, as spring gave way to summer, so he caught some of what was being said as they drew closer to the car. “You sure?” the man was asking, playful.

Annie laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure. But thank you, Pete. I really appreciate the offer.” She reached for the handle of the passenger side door.

“Well, okay,” Pete sighed, still grinning, as she got the door open. “But you have my number, if you change your mind.”

She didn’t respond to that directly, giving another small laugh instead. “I’ll see you on Monday, Pete.” Then, tossing her purse into the footwell, she got herself seated and pulled the door back shut. There was a little sigh as she fumbled with her seatbelt, and then she turned to face Abed, smiling. Not the deliberate, cheery smile she’d been sporting for Pete, but the comfortable, easy smile she so often wore when it was just the two of them. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” Abed reached out to boop her nose in greeting, then shifted the car out of park and turned his attention to the road. Hoping he sounded the right amount of curious, he asked, “What was that about?”

“Nothing much,” she answered, making herself comfortable as he slowly pulled away from the curb and back into the flow of traffic. “Pete and a few people from other departments like to grab drinks on Friday nights, I guess. He invited me along to join them.”

“And you didn’t want to go?” Abed tried to decide how exactly he felt about that. Of course, he valued their unspoken tradition of takeout food and TV on Friday evenings, as long as neither of their work schedules got in the way, but he didn’t really love the idea of being the reason she didn’t make more local friends. “He seemed pretty hopeful you’d agree.”

“Nah, I’m not worried about it,” she answered, waving a hand. There was a pause, and he didn’t have the chance to look up from the road and glance at her, but he could almost feel her thinking. “And yeah, I guess he did. Carey thinks he’s into me… Well.” She shifted a little in her seat. “Carey’s the one who’s outright said she thinks he’s into me. But I’m pretty sure a bunch of other people think so, too. Janice from the front desk keeps commenting to me about how handsome he is, and how sweet, and oh if only she were twenty-five years younger…”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a second. “He does sound nice, whenever you mention him. Actually…” He bit his tongue, then admitted, “When you were talking the other day about how he organized that big office food drive, I kind of thought he sounded a bit like Rich.”

Annie laughed at that. “Yeah, I guess… But Pete’s even blander than Rich, honestly.”

Now that gave Abed pause. “Do you not like him?” he asked, genuinely taken by surprise. Stopped at a light, he finally got a moment to look at her. “I mean, you definitely liked Rich…”

“I… did, yeah,” she answered, sheepish. Turning away as traffic began to move again, she busied herself opening the window further, then closing it a bit, opening it again, apparently seeking the position that afforded her exactly the right amount of breeze. “I don’t dislike Pete. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s friendly, and smart, and compassionate… but I think he’s also a little boring, maybe. It sounds like an insult, and I don’t mean it that way, but…” She trailed off, searching for words. “I don’t know. I think I would eventually have gotten bored of Rich, too, probably. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?”

“That’s what they say,” he agreed, watching the pickup truck ahead of them as it slowed, hesitated, and then finally turned on its turn signal. Normally, drivers who didn’t seem to know where they were going irritated him a little, but Annie was giving him too much else to think about. “I didn’t know you’d come to that conclusion. I think I always assumed that that romantic, leading-man kind of guy was just… your type.”

In the corner of his vision, he saw her wince a little. “So did I, for a long time,” she confessed, awkward but at least capable of laughing at herself. “But I think it’s more like… that was what other people expected to be my type. What people wanted for me, in an abstract sort of way. The insecure high achiever finds a nice, confident, capable man to love and provide for her, and then she never has to worry about anything ever again.”

Abed chuckled slightly. “I dunno. Never worrying about anything ever again sounds kind of nice.”

“Sure, I guess,” she laughed back. “But even if it’s possible, I don’t think a picture-book husband is what’s gonna get me there. Especially when I’m a long, long way from ever being a picture-book wife. I don’t think I’d ever really be happy, if my life played out that way.”

In a lot of ways, this was good to hear. Abed had observed for years that Annie was happier when she was being fully herself, unencumbered by others’ expectations. She still struggled with those expectations often, but she’d been getting better. Even so, he hadn’t realized she’d thought this much or this consciously about it. It was a bit of a surprise to hear that she’d already come to these conclusions. “Shrugging off the established narrative,” he said finally, slipping back into a more familiar frame of reference. “So, if you’re not the good girl who meets a good boy, settles down in a nice house with a picket fence and a couple kids, and lives out the six-out-of-ten-stars, forgettably happy ever after… then what is the storyline waiting in Annie Edison’s future?”

He could feel her smiling at him. “I haven’t decided yet,” she said, her voice warm. “I was thinking maybe I’d write something of my own, you know?”

“Most protagonists who say that go on to walk pretty predictable paths,” he pointed out, glancing at her again with a bit of a grin.

“Yeah, yeah.” Annie rolled her eyes. “Says you, of all people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” She laughed again. “I mean you’ve already mastered writing your own story! C’mon, Abed, you’re the guy who sees the story. All of the stories. And the guy who weaves in and out of them as he pleases, sometimes participating, sometimes just standing back to watch things unfold. You always choose where you want to go, who you want to be around, what you want to do – and you make those choices based on the story you want to live in. Whatever’s most interesting or most satisfying for you. I want to find the story I like the most, too. I mean… I learned all this from you in the first place, Abed.”

And if she’d been surprising him earlier in the conversation, it was nothing compared to this. Abed blinked hard, trying to focus on the road. “Is that… really how you see me?” he asked slowly. “I mean, it’s… It makes me sound a lot more interesting than I think I usually am. At least for most people.”

“Since when have I ever really been ‘most people?’” she asked fondly, reaching over to pat his leg. “The way you live your life inspires me a lot, Abed. And being close to you helps me remember what I actually want in my life. That’s part of why I decided to move out to California with you.”

“I… didn’t realise that.” He wasn’t even sure what to say.

She squeezed lightly before drawing her hand back away from his leg. There was nothing inappropriate about the gesture; it felt more emotionally intimate than physically, really. It was sweet and affectionate. In the corner of his eye, he saw her turn toward the window again. “Sometimes I think my ideal might be to collaborate with you, if I’m honest,” she told him then, her voice a little quieter than it had been a minute ago. “Write a story together, with us both as the main characters.”

Abed flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, struck dumb now. He knew what it sounded like she was saying, but it just… didn’t seem likely. Not under any circumstances, honestly, but especially not sitting in his beat-up old Honda in the streets of Los Angeles, at 5:56 pm on a Friday afternoon in late May. But then– this was Annie, and she knew how he thought. How he communicated. She’d learned, over the years, how to say things to him so that he’d understand exactly what she meant, and how to avoid saying things that he’d misinterpret.

Pulling up to another stoplight, he turned to study her. He could only see the narrowest stripe of her face, still turned away from him and looking out the window. As he watched her, he ran through all kinds of storylines he’d once considered, at best, unlikely fits for his life. And he started to smile.

[nedison]

Visit Original Link

Slip On Through (Early Version) [NEDiSON Vox Remix] - The Beach Boys (1969/2020)

So when the latest Beach Boys copyright extension release came out, I was initially disappointed that it only had a paltry three track on it! Downright measly compared to the feasts we got with the 1967: Sunshine Tomorrow and 1968 Sessions sets. 

But! Sandwiched in the middle of the trio o’ tracks was an early instrumental version of the Dennis Wilson-penned Sunflower opener Slip On Through. I loved the laid back groove on the early version and only wished they had added vox to it eventually. 

But!! Then I remembered that an a capella version of Slip was released on the massive Made In California set a few years back. A few timing adjustments and a dose of digital science later, here it is: the original track with vocals added in!

And then I obviously had to make a 45 sleeve for my remix with this bonkers pic of the boys:

ENJOY

[microsuedemouse]

Ok, since I have horrible luck and forced yet another sad Abedison on the world because of Spotify... can I ask for another prompt? How about a song ending in a multiple of 5? (5,15, 25, etc). I am an absolute sucker for bittersweet but maybe there's a happy one in there! :D <3

(send me a ship and a number from 1-100; I'll write a short scene inspired by the corresponding song from my Spotify top songs this year)

here's a happy one for ya! <3 since you gave me some freedom with the numbers, I spent a few minutes deciding which song I thought worked best for them. this one is a pretty good fit, I think! :) number 65 on my playlist:

a rly sweet song about the little things that make you fall in love with someone. feels very right for Annie and Abed.

All Night | 1 290 words | G

discount cigarillos in the parking lot dancing in the kitchen to country songs a million little pieces of a perfect life I want it to last all night

Annie used to think love happened all in one fell swoop. A spark, or an explosion of butterflies, or, hell, even a fire in the loins. Like in all those romance novels she discovered in the library shelves at age thirteen and used to read under the covers after her mother thought she’d gone to sleep. Whether it happened the moment the leads locked eyes, or not until the climax of the story when one of them narrowly escaped disaster and they had to acknowledge suddenly that the fear they’d felt was the result of a passion undeclared… that realization always came all at once, thunderously, like an epiphany. The heroine and her hero would just Know. That, Annie thought, was what real love must be like.

Back in high school, she thought she Knew, with Troy. He was handsome, and he was actually very nice to her that one time she collided with him in the hallway, and if movies had taught her anything it was that the shy, nerdy grade-grubber and the popular-but-actually-sweet jock absolutely could be soulmates. But then time went on, and she became friends with him instead, and those feelings just sort of… faded away. Then she thought she’d Known with Vaughn, who was kind and wholesome and made her feel pretty, but when the time came to test her commitment, she realized she couldn’t leave her friends just to stay with him. She’d thought, very briefly, that she Knew when she befriended Rich, who seemed in every way to be her ideal: smart, open-hearted, compassionate, outgoing, well-rounded. Even when he rejected her, he did it so gently and thoughtfully that she almost adored him more for it. Eventually, though, she’d come to see that she was a lot younger than him, and that he’d been right when he told her they weren’t standing on even ground.

Most embarrassingly of all, she thought several times that she Knew she was in love with Jeff. But when it really came down to it, she also Knew that she wasn’t, really. Whenever one of their bizarre, too-charged sort of phases wound back down, she found herself relieved. Every time he dated someone new (or not-so-new, when it came to Britta), she’d get all up in arms, and then a couple days later she’d realise it was actually a weight off her psyche. Anytime she started to trick herself into believing again that it really was Jeff all along, for her, she tried to remember the things she’d said when Abed pushed her to the very edge of her patience, that day years ago in the Dreamatorium: she loved the idea of being loved. She loved the idea that if she could make a man as cynical as Jeff love her, she’d never had to worry again about being left alone. She’d said a lot of very rash things that afternoon, and this had been one of them, but that was how she knew it was true. It had come up from her gut, instinctively, the moment that Abed-as-Annie had claimed that she was (they were) in love with Jeff. It wasn’t the healthiest conversation she’d ever had with herself – there was way too much to sort through, there – but it had, undoubtedly, been furiously honest.

Abed did have a strange way of always being just what she needed. And she tried her best to be the same for him. It wasn’t always pretty, but they were working on that. They were both kind of messy, mixed-up people, but they cared enough about one another to want to be better. That was why living together worked so well for them, even if they still made each other crazy once in a while: after all, who better to understand you than someone just as nuts as you are?

And it was because they knew each other so well that Annie knew, when she got the text that said gonna be home late again :/, exactly what their evening would look like. Normally it would’ve been his turn to make dinner, but sometimes work schedules and home schedules just didn’t cooperate. So she turned on the radio to motivate her through the little tasks that would make the rest of the evening smooth and easy: she made sure the couch was clear of clutter, and she pulled five DVDs from the shelf that she’d be willing to watch. Abed could choose his favourite from her selection, and that way they wouldn’t argue or spend an hour just trying to pick something. Then she preheated the oven and fished a frozen pizza out of the freezer. She wasn’t really up to cooking any more than Abed would be by the time he got in.

She heard him come in while she was getting the pizza into the oven, and as she stood up and pulled off the oven mitts, he stepped into the kitchen. He was smiling a bit, but he looked tired, pulling a lunchbag out of his backpack and going to the sink to rinse out his thermos.

“Long day?” Annie asked, leaning back against the edge of the counter.

“Long week,” he answered, shrugging one shoulder.

“Yeah. No kidding.” They’d both been busy, lately. She gave a small sigh, then smiled again when he turned back towards her. “At least it’s the weekend. How’re you holding up?”

Abed’s eyes crinkled as his own smile grew a little, like it heartened him just to be home with her. “Getting better, now,” he answered, and there was a trace of play in him. Though only a few minutes ago Annie had been thinking about how much she looked forward to settling into her spot on the couch and not moving again for hours, his attitude was as contagious as ever, and she found a little energy in herself somewhere.

“Yeah. Me too.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder towards the oven. “Pizza’s in. Already dug out a few movies for you to pick from. I figure it’s a good night just to veg out.”

“Sounds good to me.” Then he cocked his head, eyes going off to one side, and after a second she realised he was listening to the radio, playing quietly in its place atop the fridge. “Is this Country Roads?”

Annie paused, listening, then grinned. “Yes it is.”

“Been in quite a few movies,” he commented, almost absently. “Alien: Covenant, which probably could’ve been better. Kingsman 2, which got mixed reviews, but honestly I thought it was a lot of fun.”

“Don’t forget Whisper of the Heart,” she reminded him, a little amused.

Abed straightened up, his eyes coming back into focus on her face, and he beamed at her. “How could I ever forget Whisper of the Heart?” he asked. “That’s the best one.”

She bit down on her smile for a second before, impulsively, starting to sing along softly. “Country roads, take me home…”

“To the place I belong,” Abed continued, reaching out one hand. With a laugh, she accepted, and he pulled her gently into the middle of the kitchen and into a very loose hold, smiling his silly smile, eyes sparkling as he swayed side to side and spun her slowly.

So they danced, giggling at each other, half-singing along with John Denver, waiting for their pizza to cook. Annie didn’t think much about it in the moment. When she caught the way Abed was watching her, equal parts fond and entertained, she didn’t Know anything at all. But one day, looking back, she’d remember little things like this, and she’d Know. Even without ever being able to put a finger on when or how things changed, she’d Know, with absolute certainty.

[microsuedemouse]

For the Spotify Top 100, #3 or #15 for Abedison? You write them so beautifully!

(send me a ship and a number from 1-100; I'll write a short scene inspired by the corresponding song from my Spotify top songs this year)

friend I--

two of my five top genres this year were 'indie poptimism' and 'hopebeat.' my top music moods were 'nurturing' and 'courageous.' and you. you managed to pick. two very sad breakup songs.

(quick disclaimer: I heard the Twenty One Two version of Lose You To Love Me a solid month or two before I even learned it was a Selena Gomez song originally? lol. I have nothing against Selena, but I'm not really a fan either, and this version of the song just... vibes a lot more with me personally)

anyway. uh. I went with Resolution because I think the sentiments are a better fit for Abedison either way, and also because I already have a strong association between several other MCS tracks and Abed! now watch me cherry-pick the lyrics of this song so I can spin it into something definitely angsty but hopefully not completely heartbreaking?? (also. if you will excuse yet another parenthetical. this scene turned out a fair bit longer than I had originally planned. but I've been struggling with a pretty significant amount of writer's block lately so I'm not gonna question it. thank you for the inspiration, haha!)

resolution | 1 696 words | G

she put up with so much of my madness and my self-abuse she would tend to my wounds, and fill me with food when I'd stumble in drunk for breakfast she was right to take off before she was consumed

Now he’d done it. He’d thought so a hundred times before, but this time he was absolutely certain. There was no question, the way she’d stormed out of the apartment. He’d finally blown it.

It had always had an expiration date, anyway. Once in a while he’d fool himself into believing that it didn’t, that this was really that rumoured Forever kind of deal, but really he’d always known better. Friendship, that was one thing: friendship came in a lot of shapes, and it was more… negotiable. Sure, he understood that romance was negotiable too, but it also necessitated a certain level of proximity. Or at least it did for both of them. Friends could spend every day with you if they chose that, but then if it turned out not to work, or if life changed, they could pull back without giving up on the whole thing. It had taken time for him to get his head around that, but he understood it now. After all, Troy had left on what turned out to be a multiple-year trip around the world, but it didn’t change the fact that they were best friends. But when it came to… a lover, or a partner, or a significant other, or whatever label it was that made you feel right to use… if you couldn’t handle being together all the time, every day, things probably weren’t going to last. And though he’d heard plenty of times that it was possible to return to friendship after the failure of a romance, his experience of the world suggested that that was the exception rather than the rule. He’d known that that was what they risked, going in. But they hadn’t been acting on what made the most sense rationally. The motivation had come from somewhere else altogether.

Well. She was probably right to get out now, before things got any worse. He knew himself, and he knew how his fixations and obsessions tended to subsume everything else in his life. He’d get hung up on one little thing and before he knew it that thing was his entire universe. It made him very near unbearable; this much he knew. For a lot of people it made him completely unbearable. But for the few people who’d chosen to love him, it was survivable. Or at least, it had been so far. Still, if she was going to live with him, and spend time with him every single day, and commit to caring about all the things he cared about and sharing all the things he did… It kind of seemed inevitable, didn’t it? That one day she’d be swallowed up and there’d be no room left for her to be herself, no matter how much he loved her for herself? Because he did – god, did he love her for everything she was – but that didn’t mean she was the only thing he loved. He couldn’t stop himself from being taken over by things. So at least, he figured, he had this much for comfort. As much as it would hurt, adjusting from Life With Her back to Life Without Her, he’d know that she’d managed to keep herself intact. She wouldn’t be here, but he wouldn’t have had the chance to damage her.

It had been good while it lasted, though. He’d never be able to thank her enough for everything she’d done. Of all the things in the world she was good at, far from the least of them was taking care of him. He didn’t like feeling like a burden, so he tried not to need taking care of too much of the time, but it still happened sometimes, because… because of who he was, he supposed. But she’d told him once that she liked taking care of someone. It made her feel needed. (She was needed even if she never took care of anyone, he’d told her, but she’d given him a half-sad half-amused sort of smile and insisted she liked taking care of him, anyway.) She would do things like make sure he still ate real protein when he was too deep into a film project to feel the passage of time, or clean up the scrapes on his shins after he’d clambered up a tree looking for the right camera angle, or wrap him in a warm hug and listen to him go on for too long about how unfair it was that a show she’d never once watched had gotten cancelled in favour of some tired, second-rate drama series’ sixteenth season. And he’d done everything he could think of to repay her kindness: he’d patiently play the role of her sounding board when she needed to talk out a problem for an hour or two before she could solve it, or he’d find ways to make her laugh on the nights she felt inadequate and helpless, or he’d pull her really close in bed when she was too cold. But none of that was the same, really, as what she did for him every day. What she’d always done. It made sense that eventually, she’d feel just as keenly as he did how much she gave and how little she received. He’d always be grateful for all of it, short-lived as it had been, but nothing so imbalanced could last forever.

He was finally jogged from his introspection by the soft squeak of the doorknob. That noise had always driven her up the wall. The front door opened and closed as quietly as possible, and he couldn’t see her from where he was, but he could hear her slipping carefully out of her boots, and the whisper of her pink puffer coat as she shrugged it off. He hadn’t really expected her to come back, but– well, it made sense. She wasn’t going to spend the night somewhere else, without any of her things, if she didn’t absolutely have to. Which she didn’t. This was her apartment as much as his.

She crept quietly around the corner of the entryway into the living room, and he didn’t even have to look at her face. “Annie,” he said immediately, lifting his head in time to see her wince as he spoke. She stopped in her tracks, shoulders lifted up to her ears, biting down on her lip. “I can leave, if you want. I know we both rely a lot on our familiar routines, but I can handle sleeping somewhere else, if you’d rather stay here. Britta once told me I had a lifetime pass to her living room couch, since she stayed on ours for so long. Actually, she’s probably out somewhere tonight, but I think I know where she hides the spare key, and even if I’m wrong, her walk-up has that covered front step, so–”

“Abed,” she interrupted, but she didn’t sound angry. Actually, she sounded… sad. Really sad. Not like she was sad about earlier, but like he’d said something to make her sad just now. Brow furrowing, he studied her face, trying to make sense of that. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there were almost-dry tear tracks on her cheeks, but now she looked like she might start crying again. “You don’t… you don’t have to go anywhere,” she said carefully, voice a little thick, and then she reached up to rub the heel of her palm into her eye.

That wasn’t what he’d expected, but he wasn’t going to question her decision. He just had to figure out what to do next, in that case. As he thought, he adjusted himself a little in his spot on the carpet, finding the wall cold where he hadn’t been leaning against it for the last however long it had been. “I don’t… Should I… help you pack your things? Or would you rather I stayed out of your way?” He looked at his hands, then back up at her. “You don’t have to tell me where you’re going, but I… I’d like to know that you got there safely, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, Abed, no, I…” Suddenly she hurried across the room and knelt down in front of him, close enough for him to see clearly that she was starting to leak fresh tears. “Abed, what… what do you think is happening here?”

He blinked. “I… You walked out,” he answered, a little lamely. “You were so mad… and honestly, I kind of deserved it. I mean, I ruined your whole plan for the night. I… I assumed that was the last straw.”

“No, no, of course not,” she told him, sniffling and apparently trying not to burst out crying all over again. “No, it’s just… I mean… you’ve seen me angry before. You know how overwhelming it gets for me. I couldn’t keep myself together, and I couldn’t think straight, and I didn’t want to take it all out on you and make things worse. I just needed some fresh air, Abed. And a couple minutes to cool off.”

“So, you’re not…” He swallowed, feeling unexpectedly overwhelmed himself, now. There was something in his throat. “It’s not… over?”

“No!” She grabbed at his hands where they were resting on his knees, squeezing his fingers tightly. “I love you, Abed! Nothing is over. Except, you know, this… this weird year we’ve had.” She sniffed again, letting out a noise halfway a laugh and halfway a sob. She shuffled across the floor to sit next to him, tucking herself in against his side, releasing one of his hands but wrapping both of hers around the other one once she’d settled. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Happy New Year,” she added, barely audible.

Her fingers were ice cold, and without really thinking about it, he rearranged his hold to try to lend her some of his heat. This wasn’t at all how he’d thought things were going to play out, and he stared into space now as he worked on adjusting his expectations to match.

“I love you too,” he said softly after a moment or two, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “Happy New Year, Annie.”

[nedison]

Well folks, I’ve been away for a year and my absence seems to have

A) Made no discernible effect on taking down Yahoo/Tumblr as an entity

B) Not made any difference on accruing followers and notes. This blr essentially has been successfully running itself for the past twelve months.

So to all of you who blindly started following me over the past months, watch this space. The ending has not yet been written...

[nedison]

Well folks, it’s official. 30 seconds into this promo I became a Resident. After 9 years of tirelessly campaigning and supporting their efforts, they finally inducted me via a promo for an album that, while I don’t actually appear on it, I did half-heartedly contribute to:

Although a true Resident probably wouldn’t brag about being one, so that’s a bit of a conundrum...

[zubbyzub]

I was tagged by @nedison, and feel like wasting time while my sinus headache abates, so here goes.

List 10 songs you’re currently obsessed with and then tag 10 people to do the same. 

I don’t know if I’m obsessed with 10 songs right now, maybe 3-4, but these are all recent obsessions, not in any particular order:

Yoko Kanno-ili lolol

Rufus Wainwright-Sword of Damocles

Dolly Parton-Shine

Mai Yaminae-Want it All Back

Ambitious Lovers - Locus Coruleus

The Pillows - Spiky Seeds 

Andy Partridge-Prince of Orange

Philip Glass-Etude #3

Ex-Girl - Pop Muzik

The Residents-Elvis and His Boss

I tagged a couple, but go ahead and say I tagged you if you want to play.