I'm basically house-sitting now. All my CDs are at my parents', ready for when I move out. So are almost all my dvds and a lot of my books. We thought this would be a good idea, because my soon-to-be-ex-wife is in Spain for two weeks, then comes back the day before I leave for Glasgow. So we figured the thing to do was move all my stuff over early, to avoid a hellacious day of shuttling on the one day we're back together.
This, of course, turns out to be a mistake.
Because I've no media, you see. There are DVDs, but they're all hers - action films, musicals, and an extensive range of frat-pack comedies. Nothing wrong with any of these genres, but they're not what I want to watch right now. I'm in more of a Love is the Devil mood at the moment, is what I'm saying.
However, one DVD of mine has survived the migration: my 'Best of Bowie' collection, one of only two good purchases I made on my ill-advised trip to Scarborough so long ago (the other was Love all the People, basically a collection of every goddam thing Bill Hicks ever wrote). I'm watching it now. I'm up to the video for the Pet Shop Boys' remix of Hallo Spaceboy . And, of course, because I practically live on the internet these days (like all the rest of you), I've been googling. And I've found some disturbing stuff:
Bowie had a heart attack on June 25th, 2004. This effectively ended his recording career.
Michael Jackson had a heart attack on June 25th, 2009, which very definitely ended his recording career.
June 25th is George Michael's birthday.
You can see, of course, what it is that I'm getting at here.
Every five years, on his birthday, George Michael treats himself by giving a pop star he envies a heart attack with voodoo.
In 2014, who will feel the wrath of George?
* If anyone can identify the source I'm quoting in this title here, btw, they win a very special prize **.
** Okay, the 'very special prize' is a snog. Look, I'm getting divorced, okay? I'm frakkin' desperate. Cut me some slack. Jeez.