Every time I look down at my feet lately I see muddy, sandy or otherwise besmirched boots.
Other people’s footwear doesn’t seem to have the same problem; maybe they have the sense to stick to the pavement…
In the words of Stevie Wonder, I Blame It On The Sun, the sun that didn’t shine, from one of the Top Ten albums ever: Talking Book.
That’s what it is. Too hot to think, or type or bugger up making things in the kitchen.
Stevie Wonder is an artist whose output I love and loathe in equal measure. I find it hard to understand that someone who can be so profound can also surf on such cheese as can be found on some of his later albums. On the other hand, as someone who can write utter *tripe myself at times, perhaps it is easier to get if you just follow the logic of just putting it all out there come what may.
These are two Sunday vibes that I like
*I might manage to watch Holland win later although I read that Paul the Psychic Octopus is against me on that one. I’d go with the Octopus if I were you.