Suddenly there is this, the cutely-named Indiepopedia, a project started by Roque off that dreamy Cloudberry place. It looks lovely and I can’t wait to see it become big and exciting, a great companion to the Tweenet database (which was my Internet when I first logged in, in 1997. I didn’t care about anything else!).
For now though, I can’t even think about helping out or contributing anything. I can’t even bear looking at it. I don’t want to read about any new bands or discover facts about old ones. For now, indiepop has nothing to do with music and everything to do with the friends I’ve made, and the floors I’ve slept on, and the bright smiles hello and the hungover hugs goodbye, and the trains I’ve travelled on in the snow and the sunshine to be with them, and the bottles of vodka and JD we’ve shared, the teasing, the endless discussions and the silences, the dancing, always the dancing. My friends that understand why now is more important than anything, the friends I don’t have to explain myself to that have given me the biggest joys of my life without even realising, my friends whose eyes shimmer when they get tipsy and they smile and talk a bit faster, still sweetly. Whenever we are together I keep wishing for time to stop. But it never does, and it never will and maybe that’s okay because it isn’t forever and no indiepopedia will ever be able to record what we do. Oh but next time we wake up on a floor somewhere and stumble on each other on the way to a cup of tea, maybe that’s another one for our discography.
:: The Man Upstairs
4 hours ago