Ok, ok, so maybe I’m just still a little excited about the iPod. After all, it is all sleek, glossy lines, a drop of shiny black heaven with a light (so bright) that brings warmth to even the darkest soul; it’s filled with glorious, glorious music and, well, the interface works so well. (I know, that last bit didn’t fit with the tone of the rest of my description, but hey, I’ve always valued form and function).

But the music its been playing for me — it’s like its sensed my mood and picked, from 12,000 songs currently on it, exactly what I needed to hear.

Today that was 80s rock ballads — including the ever emotional ‘The Touch’, by Stan Bush, made famous by the Transformers movie. Ah, Optimus: you were too young to die.

’tis funny how the music you need to hear has a way of finding you. I’ve found that. That is to say, I’ve found that music has a way of finding me. Even when I’m not looking.

I’m in a very weird, purposeless mood.