Honey, I Was Just a Kid...

Bubblegum on my shoe.

Up late listening to Ryan Adams, pouting because I have gorgeous VIP 7th row tickets to his show in St. Louis tomorrow and am not going. I couldn't even sell the tickets, so they are simply going to waste. Money is tight and I can't afford to drive to St. Louis and back right now, so I figure it's better to waste $70 than spend cash I don't have on gas and meals.

Damn, Sam.

It's probably all for the best because Ryan Adams makes me weepy and nostalgic for people who don't exist anymore. His music is so sad. I should probably stop listening, but I'm a glutton for punishment and harmonicas.

On his album HEARTBREAKER, there are four consecutive songs that might be my favorite four consecutive songs on any album ever.

They are:
Track7--Call Me On Your Way Back Home
Track8--Damn, Sam (I Love A Woman That Rains)
Track9--Come Pick Me Up
Track10--To Be The One

Now I sort of want to drink copious amounts of wine and pass out with headphones on. This is generally not a good idea, but in the spirit of pouting, brooding and remarkably quiet tantrums, I may indulge.

I think I'm going to listen to all the albums in chronological order. Just the full-lengths. Not including the Whiskeytown stuff, EPs or B-sides. Just Heartbreaker, Gold, Demolition, Rock & Roll, Love Is Hell, Cold Roses, Jacksonville City Nights, 29 and Easy Tiger. But that's like, nine hours of listening, so perhaps I will start tonight and continue it tomorrow during the day. I mean, it's not like I'd say up all night obsessing if I let myself. Not at all. Because that's totally crazy. Yeah. Crazy. Really crazy. Don't do that.