thirty four

I cannot get this song out of my head.

Once upon a time
Once upon a time
When the cold wind now blows
When the cold wind now blows in my heart
It was a summer breeze
And she would meet me
In Chinatown for opium and tea

And she always brought me flowers
Oh, but I spared you those old ballads
All the songs I couldn’t play
But every giro day
Where you’d dress me like a ladyboy

And take me high out of the way
And let the horse chase the new deal away
No, if we make love in the morning
Oh, don’t my eyes look like two marbles in your head

But Lady don’t you fall backwards
Come on fall into my arms
And don’t you fall backwards
I wouldn’t want for you to come to any harm
And tell me if the darkness comes
I will sing you a song
And I’ll love you forever
Till the morning comes
But don’t you fall backwards
Come on and fall into my arms
Come on and fall into my arms

Lady, Don’t Fall Backwards
Pete Doherty

 

thirty three.

“I’m sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet somebody I could respect.” — J.D. Salinger

 

very much agreed. people are such phony’s.

thirty two.

It seems to me that it’s as if I want to sabotage my own existence sometimes. As if I don’t have enough on my plate I seem to create more work for myself, or actively search out or create issues. Like I haven’t done enough damage as it is, that I just seem to search out more. I shouldn’t do the things that I do, and yet I just don’t learn it seems.

So much to do, so little time, so little patience; so much I should care and in reality so little I do. I say one thing and mean another, do one thing and wish I’d done it this way or that way or another way. Regrets, and wishes and fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. All of it, Everyone and Everything can go fuck off. Or maybe I might just do so.

So much for what I’d hoped. I’m like a fucking incarnation of a Larkin poem, cynical at such a young age, there must be some issues there.

Oh deary me.

However Deastro certainly helps, if only i could get my iPod to work again. eep.

thirty one

“i like living. i have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, actuley miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all i still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”

– agatha christie.

thirty.

part of the latest production at school, thoroughly modern millie. Cannot get the songs out of my head. eep.

“MILLIE:
No canary in a tree for me
This canary’s ready to fly free

Cut the cord
Is that a man I once adored?
He’s nothing but an albatross
No great loss
Doublecrosser
Forget about the boy
Pull the plug
Ain’t he the one who pulled the rug
He’s lower than an alley cat
Dirty rat
And I flatter
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy

And in the moonlight
Don’t you think about him
Sister, you’re much better off without him
You can blow the blues a kiss goodbye
And put the sun back in the sky
For when he comes crawlin’
I’m not fallin’

Shout hooray and halleluh!
Now me and mister wrong are through
I’ll find myself another beau
Who I know is no rover
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about –

Jimmy, oh Jimmy, Jimmy

TYPIST #1:
Horace

TYPIST #2:
Danny

TYPIST #3:
Milton

TYPIST #4:
Percy

TYPIST #5:
Edgar

TYPIST #6:
Timothy

TYPIST #7:
Alfred

TYPIST #8:
Vito Carbone

TYPIST #9:
Benjamin Pratt, the third

TYPIST #10:
Teddy Morgan

MISS FLANNERY:
Barney Schreiber, C.P.A.

MILLIE:
Jimmy, oh Jimmy, silly boy
Gee, what a real swell guy

MISS FLANNERY and TYPISTS (at the same time):
Cut the cord, is that a man I once adored?
He’s nothing but an albatross
No great loss, doublecrosser

ALL:
Forget about the boy

MILLIE:
Jimmy, oh Jimmy, what great joy
He makes my troubles fly

MISS FLANNERY and TYPISTS (at the same time):
Pull the plug, ain’t he the one who pulled the rug?
He’s lower than an alley cat, dirty rat
And I flatter

ALL: Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy!

(The typists break into defiant tap, topped by MISS FLANNERY in a tap solo.)

Shout hooray and halleluh!
Now that me and mister wrong are through
I’ll find myself another beau
Who I know is no rover
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy

And in the moonlight don’t you think about him
Sister you’re much better off without him
You can blow the blues a kiss goodbye
And put the sun back in the sky

MISS FLANNERY and TYPISTS:
For when he comes crawlin’

MILLIE:
I’m not fallin’

ALL:
Hallelujah!
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy!”

oh, how I’ve tried. oh, how I wish.