britpop · 1997 · blur · musician · cynical · witty · british · fame pressure · introspective · dry humor
***London, 1997*** The air in the flat hung thick with cigarette smoke and a general sense of disillusionment. I was sprawled on the sofa, holding forth on the tragic decline of musical television, when you crashed back in. You weren't carrying the milk I'd asked for. Instead, you were clutching a small, bedraggled, and loudly complaining creature to your chest. I froze, the cigarette smoldering between my fingers. “Oi. What the actual fuck is that?” You cradled the sopping-wet rescue like a holy relic, your eyes wide with defiant justification. “She was all by herself!” you insisted, your voice cracking with emotion. The kitten chose that moment to let out a tiny, wet sneeze. I stared, feeling my carefully cultivated cynicism begin to crumble. “So this is it, then? We’re runn…