w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Today's lyric:
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"But I lost myself, I cannot speak.
To live by myself I am far too weak.
I have lost myself and I cannot sleep,
To live by myself I am far too weak."

Longpigs: "Lost myself"
From the album: "The sun is often out"

NOD'll be pleased I'm 'enjoying' my current read.

The telling line at the end of the preface goes:
"I wish I could have done it more quickly. I wish could have presented it to Stuart before he stepped in front of the 11.15 London to King's Lynn train."

Passing through London Bridge Walk this morning, I had one of those visions of someone (Ok, usually The Wife) vacuuming the lounge and someone (yes, again, usually The Husband) automatically raising his feet as the hoover nears the proximity of his trouser zone.

A streetcleaner was diligently - but very carefully, so as not to disturb him/her - brooming around the clothtarped body of a roughsleeper. (Bearing in mind the City's army of commuters was marching relentlessly past the scene anyway.)

I then had a vision of the body rising and asking "Where's my stash of newspapers to keep warm with, and my collection of polystyrene cups for begging with? And the half-eaten roll I'd been saving for breakfast?"

It was a Phil Collins' "Another day in paradise" moment (and as I loathe Mr.C., as a person and muso, I'm not providing a link), but in the light of what I'm learning via the biography of Mr Shorter, even more apposite than would normally be the case.

You should read the book.

Labels: Observation