Money

Ok. In 14 days I will be at the Glastonbury festival. This is pretty much the only picture I could find to demonstrate how excited I am;
For BACON!!!!!!!, read BLUR!!!!!!!. I've never listened to Springsteen before, so today I downloaded 'Born to Run' (song) and borrowed 'Born in the USA' (album). Pound those fists.

I'm reading 'Money' by Martin Amis. I tried 'Atonement' on monday but gave up after a couple of chapters, I just had the 30-second clip of the film that I saw in an interview with Keira Knightley playing over and over in my head and was left subsequently disappointed by the novel.
It's absolutely brilliant. 'Money', that is. But probably not the best book for me to be reading as it's just so depressing. Then again, I love that shit. I am also flattering myself by thinking I write in a very similar style to Amis. Not on this blog, mind, which is effectively just a deposit for my barely-literate mental drivel (and - apology necessary - for my Adrian Mole-esque adolescent grumblings, sorry about that and am reformin'), but when I write novelsnstories. Maybe they'll surface, some day.

One thing you can see is some lyrics to a song. I know I said I'm reformin', but I'm allowing myself a few joys. I wrote it a couple of months ago, in about half an hour, and it was in response to a series of videos featuring, among others, this guy, though it's not about him. If he ever sees this he'll probably think it's a desperate attempt to curry favour - to be honest, to some extent, it is. But it's nice to have context. Anyway, he's very talented (see?) and his work's certainly had a bearing on this.

North Wall

Suburban flowers blossom
And web around my window.
And I fall to my knees, and lift my head,
And I'm knighted by twigs and branches
Blowing in.

And they batter my face and hands,
But still I take their blows,
And gather them up from my bedroom floor
And wrap them up in bows

And this could take a lifetime,
Or it could take a second
Look.
You're doing this on my time
Don't make me throw out
My arms to you.

Someone's got to do it,
But I'd like to do it all,
And do it better
And show every last one
What they're missing out on.

So pass up the rope
And I'll knot it round these branches.
And over it goes with the blunt of an axe,
And we'll have to play down out chances.

And this could take a lifetime,
Or it could take a second
Look.
You're doing this on my time
Don't make me throw out
My arms to you.

And even if you gave me just a plastercast of your hand
I'd leave you alone without a trace...
A trace of me left on your clothes
A trace of me left in your house
A trace of me
When there's nothing left
To hold on to
To hold on to

To hold on

Hold on

Suburban flowers blossom
And die under my boots.
And stems are cut with you in mind,
And the rest just walk on by.


Obviously, songs work better with music. More in due course, Ableton troubles.

xxxx