My apologies Sir Paul.
I have been accused of maudlin romanticism. Yep, sorry, that’s me. Not sure why. Could be genetic, could be immaturity, could be my naturally melancholic nature, could be I’m just a sap. These traits are generally considered a handicap in our society, but as a writer, they’re a positive boon! Anyway, when I feel blue, I like listening to music, the sappier the better.
On my iPod—no I don’t have an iPhone! Live free or die!—I have a playlist called “Suicide Mix.” The name is an attempt to poke fun of those who accuse me of being a maudlin romantic. There really aren’t too many sad songs on the list, just music that reminds me of days gone by, when life seemed simpler.
