Some time in the mid-Nineties, an NME letters editor commented wryly on his paper’s long-suffering and unacknowledged residual readership: gentle, uncomplaining but perpetually disappointed folk, who still picked up a copy every week in the hope of finding an interview with Medicine Head, or news of the latest Stackridge tour.
And so it is with Troubled Diva’s similarly unacknowledged clump of diehards from the old days, when reckless divulgences ruled the roost, fancy-schmancy I-iz-a-Writerisms prevailed, and no I was ever TM.
Cometh the hour, cometh the blog post. (My contribution’s at the bottom, but don’t you DARE skip past the others en route.) I may not have much to confess these days, but a man will always have his memories. Contains strong language and scenes of an adu… hello, where have you all gone?
Continue reading “Patience rewarded?”