Murder on Music Row

Ah George Strait, how I long for thee. And Willie, Royksopp, Otis, Chemicals, Serge, Noel, even Al...why without you do I feel so alone?

Last night I paid the price for not bitching and just accepting the living room as my temporary private room. I was working on my computer (on the coffee table as usual) and messing with some music I had on my USB hard drive. My fucking roomate is running around being drunk and in the midst of trying to tackle somebody or something, managed to kick the door to the room right into my harddrive, tipping it over with quite a bang. No big deal...except I happened to be USING the drive and it was in the process of accessing something at the very moment it got kicked around. I didn't know this, but THAT'S BAD.
Suddenly, nothing is working. I can't seem to access anything on it as it disapears from my computer. I'm not making the connection yet and so I just start turning it on and off, uninstalling, reinstalling drivers...always with the same result...nula. Finally everybody leaves my fucking room and its now quiet enough for me to hear the click click clik emmenating from the drive below. Off. On. Click. Click. Click. thats not the familiar sound I usually hear when it whirs into existence. My other roomate asks to have a listen. He's heard it before. The fucker got jostled enough to knock something out of place and now instead of spinning to life it just kinda scratches itself around and around.
Much more than a dead piece of fucking metal, I had spent probably a month putting all the music I own onto this drive so I could have something to listen to away from home. Not to mention, I planned on djing once school is out and i have some time. Goodbye to that aspiration. On top of that, there was of course large files I had recorded, some with my friends, which are now all but ephermal mist that have simply ceased to exist in any form.
I feel like dogshit today. Nothing left.
on a positive note, the music part of it is at home and so in two months I can work something out. until then, on my ass i sit.
the cold ear of technology has never felt so frigid.

current music: nothing