Why can't I listen to the music I want to listen to in my own house?
When I want to listen to Florence & The Machine or The Smiths or (insert "sad" band here), I get shit from the two a-motional people in my house. They don't like emotions, and (in fact) they are upset by my blasting Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" in my room. (Notice that I said MY room, so I should be able to do whatever the fuck I want.)
Music is therapy.
Music is cathartic.
Music is memory.
Music is love (and hate and apathy and dissent and confusion and every other emotion which exists).
Let me breathe in the chords, and just leave me alone. If I like music that makes other people sad, isn't that their problem? I listen to everyone else's music, so why shouldn't I be granted the license to listen to whatever the fuck I want?! I am fucking old, so I should get to listen to whatever I want, whenever I want.
As Bill Withers said, "it's a lovely day", and I should be able to spend every day however I want - listening to whatever I want, whenever I want - regardless of what all these a-motionless whiners in my house want.
Music is the center.
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