CD now playing: Tori Amos, "Strange Little Girls"

Finally, a first foray into a fake form of a weblog.

So last week I was in the newly built Newstead Public Library when I spotted Natalie Imbruglia's first album in the record bin. "Why not" I thought, because they're free... I have spent the entire week relistening to this album, and have only yesterday pried myself off it to save my sanity... Why do I listen to it so much? Its slyly subtle vocal deliveries? The quality of the studio musicians? Or the critical hunt for and appreciation of all its minor flaws? (They are many more I hope to find.) Nomatter. Three days ago, however, I was watching TV, trying to escape my fixation on Imbruglia's song "One More Addiction" when who else but the singer herself pops up on one of those hair coloring ads. You know, the ones with Beyonce Knowles or that Dark Angel girl? I was shocked. No, horrified. It's like those horror movies where the character finally believes their own reassurances that the house is not haunted, and then opens a closet door to see the ghost staring her right in the face. How did Natalie know?! Chilling. Later that night, a mildly familiar, comfortable nightmare. I walk down a hallway to find a room: 10,000 people at a Natalie Imbruglia concert, I find myself front row center. This is normal, and I am afraid.