A Maladjusted Way Back

A midnight texture to the air, and a certain coldness. I imagine stars in a sky I can't see. These imagined stars have a spectral iciness about them; skating on the ice of frozen ponds in the darkness of winter woods.
Last night I bought the Morrissey album 'Maladjusted' in the basement section of a DVD rental store in Seven Dials. I used to have the album but lost it, or gave it away since I first bought it.
Flicked through it this evening when I returned home from a day with Em looking round London Road charity shops (including another trip to a storage basement in one where I bought more CDs and a copy of 'From The Tomb' I hadn't got. The man behind the counter said, in a rather sinister voice 'I always do special deals for men').
Remember the autumn when I first bought the album. 1997. Another London Road (in Worcester), Ruth, a hangover, nights full of a similar deep autumn cold to this one.
We had drunk vodka the night before. It was a week-night if I recall. Could have been a Wednesday or a Thursday. No lectures that day. Remember that dreadful hangover day, throwing up in the bathroom, then, later, a vegetable chow mein from the chinese a few doors down. Remember Ruth gone home and being confronted with the coldness of my room, that hangover-headache uncomfortable and awful in my head, and my room a desolation of hours, as rooms tend to be when you have spent all day hungover in them.
This is why I bought (or re-bought) the album.
I listen to remember.