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Last time out I bombarded you with some songs from my Spark City playlist. I hope you guys enjoyed them. Once more I must reiterate that my taste in music is a little different to the songs chosen. I love all the songs but still, they aren’t a patch on those wondrous melodies that cut down deep into my soul.
So here’s an album of that ilk.
Ten.
Ten.
Fuken Ten.
“TEN” is a very potent number and it’s the name of an album by the legendary Pearl Jam that changed my life. I’m sure many of you know how freaking awesome this album is. Imagine discovering music outright for the first time and this fuken monster drops out of nowhere and just rocks the entire world. Most importantly yours! Fuk me, music was just better in the 90’s.
If you haven’t ever listened to this piece of art, what the fuk are you reading this mail for? Hop onto Spotify, or raid your older brother or sister’s record collection, and blare this beast to 11. It's so good. It’s so fuken good.
But I digress.
Ten.
Ten.
Fuken Ten.
Ten is also the amount of days until the release of The Actions of Gods!!!
Holy shit.
I’m not going to lie. Usually I’m the king of cool. I’m like Eddie Vedder chilling in the ocean’s surf (ooh, some of you legends saw what I did there). Or as calm and collective as looking in a Rearviewmirror (that’s not as smooth because Rearviewmirror is from “VS”- awesome song though!!!). Where was I? Oh yeah, normally I’m like ice cream that’s slipped away from a fat kid and made his home on the pavement type of cool… I don’t know what that last one means, and now I feel bad for the kid that I made up in my head.
I really feel bad for calling him fat as well.
I’m sorry imaginary kid crying over lost ice cream cone.
Your existence has been nothing but sorrow.
I can fix this.
Hang on.
Nearly.
Okay.
There we go.
I have just imagined the ice cream vendor seeing this dreadful calamity and offering the kid a new ice cream. A bigger one. The biggest one in the shop. Oh, look, he just threw in a flake and extra sprinkles as well. What’s that? Butterscotch AND strawberry syrup lathered over it all. What a baller move.
Holy shit, the kid is so fuken happy.
The dad isn’t happy though.
The vendor is waiting to be paid.
He’s tapping his foot and the dad is cursing him out, because that last dollar was going on a bet on a long shot with the horsies. He really needs that win as well.
Oh, shit, the dad just grabbed the ice cream vendor by the scruff of the neck. He’s screaming profanities. He’s pulling him out of the ice cream van.
The kid is crying louder now and a prick seagull has spotted the massive cone with all the flavours…fuk me, this went really dark really quickly.
Hang on again.
I’ll fix this.
Just chill.
Be cool like oceans.
And Eddie Vedder.
(I fuken love Eddie Vedder).
Nearly have it.
Okay, yep.
Sorted.
Kinda.
An alien with all the super money just dropped out of the sky and bought everyone in the graveyard an ice cream.
Okay, that’s better.
But not much.
Sorry kid.
Sorry readers.
(I really wish I took two mins two plan what I was going to say in these emails)
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