Muscles have memory

I did my grocery shopping this evening. After trudging through the fruit & vege shop and the supermarket, I decided to get a movie out. That's how come at 10:25pm I find myself sitting in front of the television, and I'm wondering what is happening in the movie that's now almost finished. (Doesn't help that I've been trying to make sense of the website for the Exit festival in Serbia, amongst other things.)

I've lost the knack for watching movies. It's not the first time.

Oh no, I think the Hollie Smith song is started. We're watching No. 2. It wasn't until after the film had begun that I remembered this would happen. Oh god it's the chorus. Some music just doesn't agree with me.

But some does. I found the tab for 'The Engine Driver', from the Decemberists' Picaresque, and it's just lovely.

I am a writer, writer of fictions
I am the heart that you call home
And I've written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones

Some things you can write about forever but it won't work. It's time that passes, not endless repetition.