Friday, 24 April 2009

The Burden of Being Upright.

It's very dangerous for me to start a blog post at 11.41pm. There are twenty-seven kinds of onion layers peeling off me today.

I just spent some time trawling YouTube for video clips of old songs I used to know. This one, this is a pearler. The anthem to my twenties.

I remember I bought the "cassingle" of it, and took it back to my flat in Crows Nest and played and played it and played it. Over and over again. Until my flatmates couldn't stand it any longer and barred me from playing it.

I still did, though .... it was the perfect song, to accompany my beer and vodka and wine-fuelled weekends.

One of my flatmates smashed my cassingle into tiny pieces ... I could hardly blame him.

My GOD I was a nightmare to live with.

(Dave just telepathically read this post from his deep sleep in the other room and yelled out "What do you mean WAS??!!")



Every single lyric rang true. Except, of course, the last three words.

3 comments:

  1. EDEN..

    I WROTE MY EMAIL BEFORE I READ YOUR POST.


    That's fucking weird.

    *sigh*

    I knew you'd get it...

    XO

    Pam

    ReplyDelete
  2. Interesting...

    I've never had that kind of relationship with my mother. I guess it's because I've got a pretty good idea of how she works, and how I can turn that to my advantage. My sisters all claim that I'm just the favorite, but they don't realize how much work it took to lay that foundation. Of course, since it was mostly a study in contrast, if they hadn't been up to no good, there would have been no way for me to look good. Of course, I don't share much with my mother either, because it gets all twisted out of shape regardless of what it is.

    I would have smashed your cassette too. But I can certainly see why you would listen to this song over and over.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Gosh I am having flashbacks..."cassingles" Crows Nest my old stomping ground...The Stoned Crow, I can still smell the stench of the beer drenched carpet...and The Crows Nest Hotel...argh

    Thanks for the memories.

    I am going to have to have good listen to the lyrics now.

    ReplyDelete

Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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