Times long past

Surely enough, that night I met a girl because of the horrible outlandish pants that I was wearing. She hated them as much as I did, so I suppose we had something in common. There I was, walking home to her bed, once more wonderstruck at the strange forces that attract people to each other. The next day, there she was at the pub that she had mentioned. I invited her, half-hoped that she would come, half-hoped that she would not. By the time I got there, I was tired and happy just to have a meal cooked for me as I watched a truly entertaining band, The Snappers. She got there as I was talking to the band. I introduced her as the wrong name, haha. I later invited her back to my house, even though I had nowhere for her to stay. She didn�t seem to mind. We got there and who should be sitting on the couch but a girl who was once my lover, the most recent in a line of girls who have enriched, enraged, enlightened and insulted me in equal portions.

Well, the only way to describe it is awkward. The fact that this girl still seems interested in me, even after all this and more, makes me like her. That I don�t have to try to be special makes me wonder if she sees something beyond my superficial charms. I wonder what that is. It is a quarter past 6 now, I wonder when the sun intends to rise? Perhap I will go a-walking through the night, if I can fortify myself enough against the cold. Perhap I will marry the German girl, live in Berlin for 3 years and get an EU passport. In Berlin, I would be a small Fisch in a big pond. That might be nice for a change. In the distances of my imagination, I can hear a bass-line a-walking, brief explosions of saxophone. Get out of here, Tom Waits, I�m trying to summon my own band, working title right now is Spy Fi. Micky Fingers on lights. Can we give the lighting guy a solo?

Ha, it seems like the only thing that might put that girl off is a proposal of marriage. It would do me well to stop thinking about it. Stop [pronounced �shtop�]. In two days time, I�ll be once more on tour, on the road; Mary Poppins festival, here we come. And yet, I cannot stop thinking about Berlin.

old things, new things

1:57 p.m. - 2012-05-26