The concept of ‘home’ is a funny thing. As kids, we only know what a home should feel like by the one we live in. All our stuff is there. We have a bed, and people feed us. We visit other kids’ homes, and discover that there are other ways to live, other foods to eat, but when we’re tired or sick or just generally feeling lost in a great big world, we only know one thing – we wanna go home.
This must be a nightmare of a year for young weather forecasters. They probably get up in the morning, check a stone outside their 
front door to see if it’s wet, snowy or dry, and then fling a dart at a weather board, sobbing “Oh who cares what I say – it’s always wrong anyway. I’m never gonna finish paying off my tuition!”
Those who know me too well say I’m an “insta crash.” I have the ability to fall asleep in the most awkward of places and the strangest of times. It’s a gift.
And I dream. I dream in colour, the dreams have plot lines, no matter how insane, and if I don’t like my dream, I can wake up, figure out how to change the plot, and fall back asleep to finish off the story. In the words of that insipid 1977 Kenny Nolan song, I like dreaming. And I do it very well.
That’s right, I’m jumping on the Bandwagon. Bob and Cam’s lists of their songs from the 80s had me nostalgic for my childhood. Frankly, I’m jealous of their more mature perspectives. They actually understood the music, what it was about and even got to see some of these acts live. I’ve always said I was born at the wrong time, and I never feel it more when I look at when the music I love was made. If I had been old enough to at least grasp what music was in the 80s, I would have been old enough to be seeing and feeling it live and in person in the 90s. I was born in 1980, so for the most part the music of the 80s is a fuzzy background to other memories that I have growing up. I was just a kid when this music was around, but for as long as I can remember, music was a part of my childhood.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 