Pretty sure that songs have egos and personalities of their own. Some of them proudly standing on the back of the CD cover, just dying to be heard. Others a little more shy, not quite as confident about their quality. Song no.7 or 8. Or maybe even a bonus track, thrown in for the heck of it. Then there will be the mysterious, slightly cocky ones. The ones who hide behind innocuous sounding names. Proud, arrogant bastards. For the true fan only. They know that they are good but you will have to seek them out and really listen to them to understand and appreciate.
And there would be the faded rock-n-roll star types as well. Talk of the town when launched but now lying in silence. Unheard for years, living each moment with just memories of happier days in their minds.
I quite like Cake. Wonderful words and slightly un-melodic character which somehow just sounds so good.
Its getting warm here once again. The sicko part of me is waiting for the temperature to really rise. The days and nights of searing heat and the electricity running away in the middle of the night. Have decided that I am going to make myself a nice, cool jar of lemon tea. When it gets really hot. And place it in the fridge. Come back after a hard day, pop it open and pour it into one (of three) usable plastic glasses. Step outside, contemplate the world outside and take nice, long sips. A content “aah” in between each sip.
It is often said that the brain is the most sensuous organ of the boddday. I kinda see the point. Not that I find brains sexy. Like the shape or consistency or whatever. Quite nice when its in a curry though. Imperials used to make this super-sexy brain curry. Delicious, soft pieces smothered in those fried leaves. Scooped up with another kerala parotta.
Whenever I think about “imps” though, I remember how it used to be open till the early hours and how that city has become shit on the night life aspect.
One-half of the parent people are to visit soon. Probably check if their “issue” is living in acceptable conditions. Bathing every day, brushing the pearlies etc etc.
That’s what kids are called in the matrimonials by the way. “Issues”. So if you look in the divorced/widow category, you will come across ads for “i’less” male/female.
Imagine if that became part of common parlance. Hysterical parents, running around in theme parks, asking anyone who will listen “Have you seen my ISSUE??”. Doting mothers and fathers sitting outside the class room, sharing stories “Oh yeah my issue is so toilet trained nowadays”.
Stupidly confused people, staring into the crib of a god-awfully ugly baby, silently wondering “WHAT the fuk is wrong with that issue”.