Not in a dream, but in a song

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Take #7

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"What? Oh, right. Hi there. Shit. Is this thing actually on? Are you sure? What do you want anyway? Um, sorry, this is a recorded message. I guess you could tell that though, right? I mean, he's usually so much more articulate in real life, haha. Seriously, he's dazed and confused and looking in a broken mirror here 'trying' to spot white hairs, whilst also trying to stick to what I've written down for him on this pink post-it note - pink... it's yellow, you fucking idiot, not pink... are you colour blind as well as unable to read? - but he keeps fucking it up. Anyway, yes, the discordant malcontent (oh right, well fuck you, I liked that description of the bumptious, sociopathic prick - it is him to a 'T' and you know it) who tragically runs this sorry excuse of a self-hate shack isn't around just now but will be back after the summer sunshine beep-beeps, or when he gives up trying to finish that really fucking terrible novel by Will Self... she always thought he was a genius you know, pffffft - so, so wrong and no wonder he left that party, eventually - although, true, in Glasgow it might be raining rather than glorious summer sunshine. It is just now as I'm speaking this to him through the intricate neural networks. Raining, I mean, it's raining right now. Er, and I mean typing this, not speaking this of course. Confused? Aye, me too, and I have to live inside this bampot's head 24/7. Spare a thought a wee thought, eh? Och. Anyway, see you all soon I guess. Have a nice time. Er, are you getting away anywhere nice? Oh, Bexhill-On-Sea you say? Really? Um, lovely. I'm sure you'll catch syphilis or the plague or something... at least the flu, given it is August by now. So 'bye' then. Oh yes, leave a message if you want to, with your name and number and all that kind of thing but I very much doubt he'll get back to you. He's not much good at that kind of thing. Nothing personal, it's just that he doesn't really like telephones that much (bit of a phobia, he always assumes - empirically correctly as it happens - it's bad news or some credit card company chasing money from him, oh do you get that too... what a coincidence!) and he often doesn't play the messages when he gets back because when you press play, because this fucking machine is so old now, it sometimes gets the tape a bit stuc..."

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The Go-Betweens - 'Finding you' (live) (3.55)

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Here, there, everywhere. Sigh. Remembering Grant, as always... :(

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