Wow, if waking up to finding yourself writing about Sinead O'Connor's mental status FOR THE THIRD TIME IN LESS THAN A MONTH, doesn't give you leave to wonder what the fuck you were thinking of in starting a music blog, maybe you should have never started a fucking music blog in the first place?
Certainly, I'm beginning to wonder what the hell I'm up to, giving my every waking hour to wondering why Sinead has lost her marbles. From secret suicide plans to sudden marriages, pot runs on wedding days and endless dumbass tweeting, O'Connor needs to live her life with a veil of secrecy before her kids, who must be well sick of this crap, disown her.
It is one thing to tear up a pix of the Pope on SNL, something else entirely to tweet this crap:: "we decided to be boyfriend and girlfriend again an stay married but we did rush so we gonna return to b friend g friend…"guess who had a mad love making affair with her own husband last night?"
Like they saw round our way, ain't naught as strange as folks. The way people live their lives is nothing if not endlessly fascinating, until, of course, it stops being endlessly fascinating. And while Sinead's mating habits habits when she was 23 is one thing, now she's 44 is something else entirely.
Here's an idea whose time has arrived, Sinead. Release the new album, and play the Beacon.