Yet another Northern cracker. Yet another heart-breaking theme. The type of music played at the clubs was often sentimental girly-stuff, where the ladies would swirl in their 360 degree skirts and ballet pumps; regularly massive stompers where the lads would do handstands, backdrops, twists and then go and lie down for a while with a beer towel (nicked from a pub, cos All-Nighters don't do drink) over their heads; or this type of up-tempo tune where the lyrics would make you weep.
I have several points of empathy with Don Ray, though unfortunately not geographic cos I have no idea from where or when this disc emanated. Poor research on my part. Having sold all my 45s donkeys' ago I still struggle with some of the names, titles, provenance and linkage.
Still, having been born a loser, I intend to die like one too. You can make that oh! so funny! sign with your finger and thumb against your forehead at this point. If I had an AK-47, or a Heckler&Koch, at this precise moment I would go out with a rattle and a sizzle. (Note, not Rattle and Hum, cos that would be fuelling too many sun-glass purchases and idiotic comments about how to run the world whilst ingesting charlie and dollar bills.)
I have had enough. I am sure you have, too.
Look for me in the late Winter sky: I'll be the furious piece of vitriolic space-dust hurtling toward your doomed planet.
And between the Summer and Winter Solstices I may find time to help a lad with a novel. After that, I'm done. Probably well before the scheduled finish-line. What a waste of time life proves itself to be.
1 comment:
Ellis, found your blog at last! Not good with this internet stuff and realised I have a google account which is where your blogs have gone to.
A mind is a terrible thing to waste, and I don't know where that quote comes from, probably an old reggae record or from Bob.
Stick around matey x
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