Put your iTunes collection on shuffle, and write down the first line of the first twenty songs. Post the poem that results. The first line of the twenty-first is the title.
Just an old friend coming over now to visit you
Let me know that I’ve done wrong
When I get to the bottom
To the wounded
The stars are underground
Crawling in my skin
I’m scratching
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I am NOT Sharon Osbourne!
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Ben Folds and Linkin Park back to back at the end there, huh? It's kinda like a microcosm of you meshing your music with mine.
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It's not like I did it on purpose. But it actually kind of works, I guess.
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I think it does. I'm not sure I understand if there's an overall theme, but it kinda makes sense in a way.
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I don't think there is one, really... But they fit well, somehow.
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I'm sure there is one. I just need to think about it.
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You're welcome to try and think of what the theme is.
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It sounds like you're wrestling with the fact that you've left what you've known as home.
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Why would I be wrestling with it? It's what I wanted to do.
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That's just what the poem looks like. You don't miss any bit of your home country? Your family?
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You can't miss what you don't have. Though I suppose I do miss England somewhat.
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Yes you can. You can miss the idea of something.
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... If you say so.
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