I don't get here to post as often as I'd like, but then it's all about quality not quantity isn't it. Mmm... actually the quality is not that great either!
Here's something from Lemon that I'll link back to when I get properly 'online'
*1. Four states I've been to: Florida, California, New York, Massachusetts.
*2. Four smells I love: freshly cut grass, ground coffee, dessicated coconut, my wife
*3. Four people I think will respond: Doug, Neil, Charlie (if he's feeling ok), Marianne/Fred (is that cheating?)
*4. Four TV shows I Love: Big Bang Theory, Borgen, Who Do You Think You Are?, QI (I've assumed it has to be current-ish... otherwise thirtysomething, GBH and a whole host of others come into play)
Here's what you're supposed to do now... and please don't spoil the fun.
Copy and paste onto your page, delete my answers, type in your answers, post it and see who responds.
This evening I walked from Camden Town back to Euston - passing on the way, Mornington Crescent tube station.
Apart from being a fine example of Tube station architecture, the name of an incomprehensible radio game, a mighty fine song by Belle & Sebastian, I also happen to think it's the most romantically named tube stop in London. Contradictory responses on a postcard please...!
While David's original brief was leading towards a discussion of faith and religion, I decided to use the theme of Believe as an excuse to post one of my favourite Elvis Costello songs.
This is the opening track from the sublime masterpiece Imperial Bedroom. It is the perfectly pitched tale of the lousy lounge-bar lothario. Like all of the very best Costello songs the use of language in it represents to me the closest that pop-songs get to Shakespearean plays. The wordplay is (in my opinion) exquisite. [Mmm - I do hope I'm not underselling this!!] 'I hang around dying to be tortured', 'Charged with insults and flattery', 'In a sense (innocence) she still smiles very sweetly' Oh it's all just too wonderfully clever.
So - to the music - here's a youtube link that has the original album version set against a map of Europe for some reason. Disappointing, but what it does mean is that you can read the lyrics I've pasted below - while wallowing in the wonderful wordiness of it all.
History repeats the old conceits
The glib replies the same defeats
Keep your finger on important issues
With crocodile tears and a pocketful of tissues
I'm just the oily slick
On the windup world of the nervous tick
In a very fashionable hovel
I hang around dying to be tortured
You'll never be alone in the bone orchard
This battle with the bottle is nothing so novel
So in this almost empty gin palace
Through a two-way looking glass
You see your Alice
You know she has no sense
For all your jealousy
In a sense she still smiles very sweetly
Charged with insults and flattery
Her body moves with malice
Do you have to be so cruel to be callous
And now you find you fit this identikit completely
You say you have no secrets
And then leave discreetly
[Chorus:]
I might make it California's fault
Be locked in Geneva's deepest vault
Just like the canals of Mars and the great barrier reef
Bloody hell! Just popped in to say Happy Birthday and I see you posted another Friday Four!! Sorry - missed that. I'll try and find a computer somewhere and check it out later. Meanwhile, have a great day.
