There’s nothin’ ’bout this decade (MY decade, that is; my head-smacking 50s, kicked off last December) so far that deserves pom-poms and sloppy blowjobs. But it’s only been four months, and I have never been one to have a lot of patience. That’s why I’m doing my thing(s). Just listen to sweet Neil, his melody, and whatever it is he’s saying:

I do love this song, but the guy doesn’t actually make a whole lot of sense here, or anywhere. This is the same guy who played a one-note guitar solo in “Cinnamon Girl” and was considered a genius, which I’m not linking to.

An ex-boyfriend of mine told me that he once listened to “After the Gold Rush” with his mother–who had never heard the man, Neil, before–and she had crinkled her face up in confusion and said, “Who IS this old woman? She’s AWFUL.”

You will never hear our Neil the same way again.

I’m working on things, kids.

Nadya.