Monday, August 25, 2008
"...the daily dramas...made from nothing, so nothing ever made it right"
Why the drought? bedshaped asked.
And I didn't answer, because it's all part of that thing that I never ever talk about. I was sort of wondering if maybe should, because it's not like anything bad ever came of sharing stuff with strangers over the Internet is it? But it's hard to know where to start, and there's always the worry that - if I do start - I won't know when to stop.
It's not as if it's anything special.
The path he wore between the fruit machine and the bar didn’t leave much cash spare for music. Or food for that matter.
Even if it had, the very act of buying a record would have been too much of a risk, given too much away. He understood how important music was to me, how vulnerable it made me and I was learning to pretend not to care.
See? Nothing special.
After all, in the non-stop "I Have Never" of life who wouldn't be drinking to "...arbitrarily fallen into a destructive relationship with a borderline sociopath"?
It took me years to work out that, that time we came off the bike - it wasn’t an accident.
Landed - Ben Folds