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The
guitars of Blueboy's "Meet Johnny Rave" a sonic
tickle, the cello grounding the song to the earth before it
all floats away. "A boy built just for pleasure"--aren't
we all? (Well, I try at least). Endless nights, at least until
the sunrise, wasted in loud discos and dark pubs. The inevitable
morning after, sleeping off the drugs and alcohol from your
body. But, those things never really help any, do they? Watching
the waves come off the ocean can provide more solace. And, the
next night it is back to the dancefloor, having the dire sound
of life's realities pounded away by a heavy beat. It leaves
less time to think; thinking can be a dangerous preoccupation.
"London is full of itself and such misery"--but so
is everywhere else.
"I scratched our names in the sand and watched the waves
take them away, our names carved in every spray," so goes
the ocean in Ben Watt's "North Marine Drive".
The preacher in the park said to imagine for each minute of
your life, a copy of yourself created from that instant. Colin
walked on the streets and met himself on every street corner.
He would have gone out for coffee with himself, but he, rather,
they, both did not have the time. Late into the night, each
were busy making plans and falling asleep with a tip for tomorrow.
Colin knew a change would happen soon; life just could not continue
as it had. He watched the ocean waves for comfort; over his
shoulder he glanced back in the chance that he was creeping
up on himself. No, he wasn't, but he thought it best to move
on in any case.
The weekend at the sea--that was rash, that was once in a lifetime.
The weather was still cold; scarfs and gloves a necessity to
avoid the chill. Not until the car pulled into the lot by the
inn (gravel crunching underneath rubber) did she agree to the
weekend away, but later it occurred to her that 'yes' had been
entering the car in the first place and the kiss placed firmly
on his lips. On the shore they searched for seashells and ran
away from the water as the waves crawled up the sand. The next
morning, rain, spilt coffee, missing keys, a slap, a quarrel
(needless to go into details; an end is an end). In Eggstone's
"April and May," "every moment has an end, we
pretend we are unaware but we're fooling fools". She recalled
that he had promised her the sun and the stars, but the two
of them could not even get very far on the earth (and where
does one keep the sun and the stars?). In the Marine Girls'
"A Place In the Sun," "we'll reach the other
side you say, but we never get half-way". Sunny days at
the beach only act as a temporary antidote for the usual heartbreak
and tears that are left in the wind there.
Loneliness hides behind every corner in the city at night. "Plane
or boat, get away, gotta go". Rushing away from troubles,
following the sunlight around the world to avoid another night
alone. A plane can only fly so fast as it races into the sun.
In "The Process" by Saint Etienne, "standing
on a corner waiting for a taxi, suddenly it seems so big".
The routine of daily life, and the realization that fifty years
of the same day await in the morning. A revelation on the doorstep;
an epiphany at the newsstand. And what matters is how you are
going to deal with it all... when the sun rises; the night must
be answered to first.
You spent those nights alone thinking of someone, and those
longer nights alone missing that someone. The way the mist hung
in the air after the storm--you thought magic may have been
involved. The midnight wanderings, you became ill from too much
worry and too many cigarettes. It never quite became you. "Beaches
and parks, the shade of a tree, hot days and hot nights"
remain a bitter reminder. (But, I hear that feeling will pass).
Lone guitar strum and two voices in "Between Hello and
Goodbye" by the Field Mice. "There never is
much time between hello and goodbye". And, you wish that
all the minutes you had spent together were placed in an endless
loop; magic would have to be involved.
The walk through the park never seemed as long to him as after
a few drinks. He thought, "I remember trains and boats
and planes and people from the past," but those seemed
far off. When he had had the time to do fabulous things, he
had not the money; now that he had the money, he had not the
time. The hill that overlooked the city proved a formidable
obstacle night after night--either walk around it and out of
his way, or up, over, and back down the hill. The one evening
he did walk up it, he forgot himself in the view of the city
lights, and in that way they shone and glittered. He thought
it resembled a little universe that had fallen from the sky
to resolutely reside on earth for the rest of time. Pulled away
and back down the hill, he picked a rock from the path and scratched
words onto the pavement: "I took the sun from the sky and
held it in my arms for a souvenir". He recalled it was
from a song that had not gone to heart as he once thought it
had; he thought it was Felt's "The Day The Rain
Came Down," perhaps.
"It was no surprise for me so I was not that sad".
The bags had been taken from their usual residence beneath the
bed and were left by the door for the week. Both noticed the
other knew of the change, but neither said a word about it.
An end is often inevitable. The afternoon when he returned and
the bags were gone--he did not call out any names in the slight
chance that... He knew the rooms were empty. He had to then
consider other ways to fill the empty spaces. Spare piano notes
and the sparer bass line of Club 8's "I Wish You’d
Stay"; a voice that has cried an evening away. "If
I don't look that sad it's because I knew it," and will
know when it will happen again. The town has many beautiful
faces; you are running out of options.
"Follow the weather wherever it's leading". The sidewalk
was already sun-warmed when Maggie awoke. The way the sun shone
in the window, lighting up the room--it reminded her of stolen
kisses. The entire day spread before her with simply nothing
to be done, save for what she made of it. She pressed 'play'
on the stereo; it was a good way to begin the day (in the afternoon)
with Kahimi Karie's "Good Morning World". She
tried not to leave the house before 6 pm.; the sight of commuters
scurrying made her anxious. Leafing through the pages of Cutie,
she found her next favorite accessory: a cat-eared cap. Furry
parkas aside, it was a horrid year to be a young beautiful woman
fashion-wise. On the other hand, she thought, fashion aside,
it was simply fabulous to be a young beautiful woman.
When the world fell back into monochrome, she never thought
to open the blinds or to leave the house. The summer heat crept
inside to find her nevertheless. In autumn, she would complain
bitterly that the warm days had passed too quickly; she could
complain on each item in a dictionary, from A to Z, (and the
book itself) if only given the chance. One winter night she
thought it was love, "but the boy came from nowhere to
steal the hearts of lassies in the lavvies of the club tonight".
She would leave town with a destination of nowhere in search
of the nowhere boy. The shopkeeper said to the postman that
she had as much chance to find that boy as to learn where the
summer went. An organ and cello gliding away until the song's
fade in "I Know Where The Summer Goes" by Belle
and Sebastian, "when you're having no fun... and your
kitchen looks like hell". She had heard a rumor: the summer
goes to the hearts of those that stay young and to those that
still believe.
| Matthew
Patrick, January 2000 |
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