Why

I do not know why I've taken it upon myself to write forty thousand words about a mildly interesting book I read a little while ago. I've had another go at finishing the post - still going - seriously, no fucking idea why. When I could be wasting my time and wearing out my finger muscles writing about so many so much more interesting topics, such as providing posterity with a veiled account of the very worst meeting in the world (I was fortunate enough to attend it a few weeks ago) or telling you again that I am not finding it specially easy to live my life.

Well, somewhat foolishly, I sang "I've been to Paradise but I've never been to me" to Leonard a week or so ago and he's all into it now. What a song! Slutshaming so over the top that it backfires and makes the supposedly regrettable hedonism of the lady's past life sound totally awesome, although I am not too sure about the being undressed by kings part. Google the lyrics if you do not remember. Of course I've been singing it too and encouraging him for all I'm worth. Charlene pales into insignificance beside the other song that's big with him right now - it's this sickening Christian thing about the Rapture which he apparently got access to by asking Dorian what is the best song ever. I am proud of Leonard for being able to think like a person who gets access to eBay Platinum Reserve but also it is very alarming that he learned the words to this song after hearing it two or three times. Last time it was played for him he sat on the floor, hands in prayer position, eyes closed, singing along - nooooooooooo.