Dance & Drink & Screw

I'm not leaving the flat today.

I spent the morning playing video games (X-Men, mostly because it's like Heroes by proxy) and reading. I started E. M. Forster's Maurice and it looks like I'll be finished with it by tonight. Chocolates, coffee with dollops of Bailey's and a chicken pie also featured. We have run out of milk and I need to think of a way to trick Kevin into going to the cornerstore. He's a Leo so it's all reverse psychology when I want something done.

I took the stereo into the bathroom with The 6ths' "Hyacinths and Thistles", poured some Muji milk bath salts in the hot water, lit a rose and sandalwood candle, turned off the lights, stripped, made sure my half-mug of Bailey's and ice wouldn't tip in the bath, and luxuriantly slid in. I like listening to music in the bathtub. I like the way it echoes and seems played just for myself, recorded in an echoeing chamber. Nothing gets lost, like it so often does in a London living room invaded by the street's constant sounds.

Other great suggestions for the bathtub: Lou Reed's "Transformer", The Raveonette's "Lust Lust Lust", The Moody Bitch Mix and The Magnetic Fields' "69 Love Songs vol.3". Strangelove's "Time For The Rest of Your Life" is too intense for such a small space and will depress you. The second time I read Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" was in the tub (two lie ins); and I've also watched Scream 3 in the tub (this was in Kevin's uni apartment; I moved the TV until it snuggly fit the bathroom's entrance.)

I want to be buried in a bathtub. But I don't want to be drowned in one, or electrocuted (as Kevin seems to think is my fate everytime I sneak the stereo in there.)

X-post to bathtubz, the best community in Livejournal, natch <--- sooo 2003.