Eddie Vedder releases his second solo album next week: Ukulele Songs. When he does things like this, like reappear in the press, write simple, beautiful songs, or, heaven forbid wander his neighborhood, I have a very visceral reaction. Debilitating, actually. Completely robs me of any ability to function normally, incapacitates my present, and throws me back to hours spent ineffectively "stalking" my teenage crush. The rush of angst, need and superficial pain prohibits productivity. As Lana so effectively assessed, I am sick, I have a flu, and only through weeks daydreams can I resurface as my self.
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