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SPOTTIEOTTIEDOPE

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In life there are only three certainties: death, taxes and everybody loves Friday. From the infectious aura of positivity as the end of the week draws near, to the casual clothes, the promise of late nights and lie-ins and right down to crafting weekend plans with friends, if your endorphins aren’t sparked into action by the ticking clock of a Friday afternoon I suggest shooting yourself… or maybe try smelling some vanilla. Apparently that works. For an audiophile-in layman’s terms, a nerd- like me, the day takes on added significance as every Friday marks New Music Day, a weekly treat of new albums for my ravenous ears to feast on. Read more...

 

 

I wouldn’t write, and I didn’t care what happened next. It was June 2012, just another day in my English classroom spent in an endless reverie, staring down at the ugly jail of my scrawled handwriting from which beauty tried to escape. I was becoming more and more introverted, less and less willing to divulge inspiration. If you were to die tomorrow and I handed you a pen today, how would you write your obituary? What would you want it to say? If you asked me this five years ago you’d have been met with a blank stare and a few thoughtful, slow blinks that led precisely nowhere. Because I didn’t fucking know. Maybe I’d have offered you some empty platitudes, sentiments overheard in the graveyards of false idols, the people I was meant to aspire to but was never really inspired by. Read more...