My heroes get younger as I get older. Wait...

I was first introduced to Lorde by Maggie Stiefvater, who had made a writer's playlist that included Lorde's stellar song "Tennis Court". I listened for words, and for music. It was addictive.

Then I heard "Royals", and was swept away. Using beautifully constructed pop music to talk about pop music...

I assume I am not the only ancient trying to sing the lyrics.

And I found out she'd received flack for saying that one of Selena Gomez's songs conveyed a portrait of women that Lorde, as a feminist, was a bit tired of. I'm so happy that she said this.

She's only sixteen. I hope her career continues to be beautiful.

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The Day of the Dead is Laurent's and my anniversary. We haven't yet celebrated it this year. Maybe it's feeling a little too morbid.

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Words are finally beginning to struggle for freedom as NaNoWriMo progresses. Alas, they are not the words in this year's novel. A happy, dull, complacent little story, I'm afraid.

Nope, what I really want to write is a long stream of nonsense that curdles sentences, and makes letters fall apart. Side effect of chemo?