Monday, June 13, 2005
Packing his bags,gotta go, gotta go
Packing his bags,gotta go
He's a Samsonite Man
Maybe he is just a rollin stone
Wandering from here to there
Searching for a place to call his home
-Alicia Keys
Love letters. A Truman Capote biography. A jar of coriander. Two postcards (unsent). Six squeaky nuns. A signed Super Furry Animals poster. A book of (my own) god-awful poems. A Scrabble turntable. A film script. A ‘You’ll Win With Gore!’ cigar from 2000. Cheese. A maroon rugby shirt. An Edward Hopper calendar. Tickets and programmes from UK gigs. The baby. The bathwater.
If you’d met me today you would have gone home and said boy, that Chuck, he is ruthless! And ya know what? You would have been right, for today was the day I had to move on up and move on out, or whatever pineapple head M.People shemale sang about. And what looks like a recipe for disaster up there is in fact a list of things I’ve had to throw away. Not that I really wanted to, but in the interests of avoiding clutter they were decisions that had to be made
I’ve lived in this lovely little flat for a year and have taken a certain pride in keeping it clean. But tonight as I write, boxes are stacked in the corner, bookshelves are stripped, pictures are unhooked and a pile of rubbish lies in the middle of the floor. And truth be told I’m sad to be leaving my pad and this damn fine city. But as compatriot Jessie will tell you leaving Welly's never easy...
Sure, I’m happy to be heading to greener pastures and wouldn’t trade in the opportunity for nuttin’ but i'm sorry to leave, especially as I’ve been so happy here. So tonight’s my last night, I’ve got a bottle of red wine to drink, a plastic dog to console and a freezer to watch defrost. Wish you were here.
Ugh, enough gloom. Who wants a nun? I’ve saved them from the dumpster and have six to give away – simply choose and name your favourite from the fine specimens below and tell me in 10 words or less why your sweet singin' sister deserves to be saved. Numbered 1-6, left to right.
Or they burn.
Packing his bags,gotta go
He's a Samsonite Man
Maybe he is just a rollin stone
Wandering from here to there
Searching for a place to call his home
-Alicia Keys
Love letters. A Truman Capote biography. A jar of coriander. Two postcards (unsent). Six squeaky nuns. A signed Super Furry Animals poster. A book of (my own) god-awful poems. A Scrabble turntable. A film script. A ‘You’ll Win With Gore!’ cigar from 2000. Cheese. A maroon rugby shirt. An Edward Hopper calendar. Tickets and programmes from UK gigs. The baby. The bathwater.
If you’d met me today you would have gone home and said boy, that Chuck, he is ruthless! And ya know what? You would have been right, for today was the day I had to move on up and move on out, or whatever pineapple head M.People shemale sang about. And what looks like a recipe for disaster up there is in fact a list of things I’ve had to throw away. Not that I really wanted to, but in the interests of avoiding clutter they were decisions that had to be made
I’ve lived in this lovely little flat for a year and have taken a certain pride in keeping it clean. But tonight as I write, boxes are stacked in the corner, bookshelves are stripped, pictures are unhooked and a pile of rubbish lies in the middle of the floor. And truth be told I’m sad to be leaving my pad and this damn fine city. But as compatriot Jessie will tell you leaving Welly's never easy...
Sure, I’m happy to be heading to greener pastures and wouldn’t trade in the opportunity for nuttin’ but i'm sorry to leave, especially as I’ve been so happy here. So tonight’s my last night, I’ve got a bottle of red wine to drink, a plastic dog to console and a freezer to watch defrost. Wish you were here.
Ugh, enough gloom. Who wants a nun? I’ve saved them from the dumpster and have six to give away – simply choose and name your favourite from the fine specimens below and tell me in 10 words or less why your sweet singin' sister deserves to be saved. Numbered 1-6, left to right.
Or they burn.
