hullo there,

I'm back in lovely isolated Cornwall, after a couple of weeks of going to friends' birthday parties around the country, and it seems very lonely by comparison. That's because it is. (Lots of people v. Three people, see?). But it was wonderful seeing people I've been out of touch with for months. 

We went to see Pulp. They were, of course, fantastic. With the Manics having now gone officially, irrevocably shite, Pulp have got to be the band of our generation (whichever generation that is). Jarvis drew a monkey for us. One of my friends has got a project, you see, getting people to draw rubbish monkeys for her, which she hopes to display eventually. Obviously, celebrity monkeys are an important part of this, so we hung around in the (very) cold, waiting for Jarvis. He was really nice about it - if slightly perplexed - and drew a fabulous monkey. It's saying "I'm a bad monkey". We invited him back for tea, but he said he had to get off in a hurry.

If anybody has any other celebrity monkeys, they'd be gratefully received.

The uncomfortable feeling of leaving things behind seems to be everywhere. Like: the boy who first really got me into B & S, the boy who's life revolved around them - so, when I fell in love with him, it was only natural that I fall in love with them too - he's finding his interest in them just isn't there any more. I haven't bothered to buy the single. Another friend hasn't bought anything since Legal Man. It's not that some people being slightly less excited by a single is a big deal...it just seems symptomatic of a bigger harrumph.

When everybody was sending out epigrammatic little comments on love recently, I was going to say that love is the most wonderful mistake any of us will ever make. And I think... I think that's the problem. Because love necessitates occasional readjustments, shifts in perspective, and because none of it made sense in the first place, you never know what you're going to find on the other side. So, you're suddenly in a different place to someone, or something changes in style somehow, and because the point of contact's changed, there's a period of uncertainty. You can't even be sure if there's still love there. And so change, if you've loved too much, can be worrying. But then, so can lions.

The cows in the field opposite my window aren't there any more. I don't know where they've gone, or when they'll be back. Maybe they won't be back until next springtime. 
The field looks terribly empty without them. 

But there's always springtime.


affection, 
tom


(Soundtrack:
Pulp - Something Changed, Sorted..., F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E.
Suede - The Power, New Generation, The 2 Of Us
DMX Krew - Street Boys)
-- 
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tom p, currently somewhere in darkest cornwall                    tom@fatfatpope.com
"...a man with a phil oakey haircut..."   the stage
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