Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

Proceedings

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hl-nqr6eJ9M

Proceedings

Had a moment to relive my youth this week.  My teen crush, the magnificent Lloyd Cole, was playing in my closest city.  Acoustic set, supported by magnificent NZ songwriter, Greg Johnson.  53 years old now, and recovering from a bout of food poisoning/sore throat from the vomiting, was a marvellous night nonetheless!  A posted the link to this as my favourite song, but Brand New Friend may have been second, and more appropriate to my emotions right now, maybe I’ll do an extra post?

PS, this is still relevant to me, as Roger had a lovely Welsh girlfriend called Helen in the UK, and they had a “lost weekend” as teens (he did his OE at just 17-19 years of age) in Paris, and he got sick, and they had to find a doctor, communicate in pidjin French to get medicine.  I know so much about his past, we were that couple, we knew so much…. and yet not enough, ultimately.

Lloyd Cole – Lost Weekend Lyrics

It took a lost weekend in a hotel in amsterdam
And double pneumonia in a single room
And the sickest joke was the price of the medicine
Are you laughing at me now may I please laugh along with you

This morning I woke up from a deep unquiet sleep
With ashtray clothes and miss lonelyheart’s pen
With which I wrote for you a lovesong in tattoo
Upon my palm ’twas stolen from me when jesus took my hand

You see I I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it
Drop me and I’ll fall to pieces so easily

I was a king bee with a head full of attitude
Wore my heart on my sleeve like a stain and
My aim was to taboo you
Could we meet in the marketplace
Did I ever hey please did you wound my knees

You see I I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it
Drop me and I’ll fall to pieces

Yes it’s too easy and there’s nobody else to blame
Will I hang my head in a crying shame
There is nobody else to blame nobody else except my sweet self

Again it took a lost weekend in a hotel in amsterdam
Twenty four gone years to conclude in tears
That the sickest joke was the price of the medicine
Are you laughing at me now
May I please laugh along

I was a king bee with a head full of attitude
And ashtray heart on my sleeve wounded knees
And my one love song was a tatoo upon my palm
You wrote upon me when you took my hand

You see I I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it
Drop me and I’ll fall to pieces too easily

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2 thoughts on “Proceedings

  1. Ugh, seeing that name Helen still gives me a start. That is the name of the creepy, alcoholic stalker whore. Such a pretty name for such an ugly person. Cheers to you for having such fun seeing your teen crush… months ago now, I realize. But you can go back to your blog and reminisce 🙂 .

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