So I finally did it. I succumbed and created an lj community. It's called mazenderan, after "the Rosy Hours of Mazenderan" mentioned in The Phantom of the Opera. I'm so single-minded, aren't I? Guess I was able to reclaim that old obsessive streak back from the jaws of maturity. Good to know.

Anyway, it's a community for the Persian, because he's my favorite. He's the guy who watches, waits, and dashes in with mixed motives at the last minute. He's overlooked. He's a writer. He's a foreigner, exiled from his country for saving the life of a man who'd, under many circumstances, just as soon kill him.

I like this dude a lot.

But it's such a frivolous thing to make a group for, really. Ah well. Frivolity is the spice of life. Or something.
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Do you ever go back through cds or movies you won't get rid of because they used to mean something to you but are now embarrassed by? That make you wonder how on earth you could have been so childish? And then make you wonder, if people your age still sometimes like these things, is it you who's being childish by denigrating them?

Specifically, musicals, of the modernish variety. I still have them, because I remember a time when Jekyll and Hyde was, like, important. I never liked all the writing, but the characters meant something. And now I pull it out and feel disbelief that I liked it; so overblown, such timid lyrics, so simplistic in its psychology.

Then I get caught up in just how yummy Anthony Warlow sounds, before I shake myself back to my indie-British-garage-punk reality.

Am I going to feel this way about Elliott Smith or Frank Black or Neil Young one day?