I was feeling quite low this morning, creatively so a big thank you to everyone who commented yesterday and cheered me up - in particular Ro-Mo and Spinny, both of whom I feared I'd upset once too often over the last few weeks on these and other pages. I hope that isn't the case - that *would* make me very sad indeed... I suppose because you know that people read, you feel you have to give them something good (or at least worth reading) *all* *the* *time* and one forgets too easily that the handful of people who congregate here every so often are usually far more forgiving of the odd dip than one is oneself.
I was, truth to mood, going to do a post that started like this:
The sun rose over the rooftops as garish as a 1988 Dutch national team shirt...
and ended like this:
"I can still see the razor line". There is an opening in the fence onto the railway tracks. I slip through. I lay my head down on the line and wait for the pillow to become a blade.
Goodbye.
But then Nick Drake singing "This is the time of no reply" gave way to Bry. singing "For your Pleasure, in our present state", and I cheered up. Why? Well, when you hear the extraordinary, you are reminded that the extraordinary is possible.* Hard to achieve, perhaps - but possible. And sometimes that's enough.
"Ta-ra
Ta-ra...."
L.U.V. on y'all,
Bob
*Drake is extraordinary too, but more on that later
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