Ya know, I was just starting to have a kinda respect for you sir. But just the fact that you even know or bothered to look up 80 ABBA songs cast everything in a whole new light.
But I tell ya what --> it's been an extremely brutal week for me working doubleshifts with little sleep and lots of petty scraps with annoying bastards (of which I proudly count myself as one). And tonight, I don't know what happened, but it's peaceful and everything is running smooth and I'm around people I like.
And oh, it's so fucking boring.
So, here's one.
Led Zeppelin. A Dave32 bootleg.
In the evening, sometimes, I like to peel a tangerine from the orchard as I gaze out on the ocean. But last night, after a few too many Jamesons, I stumbled dazed and confused into the path of a feral black dog.
And I could've swore I heard the dog ask me -- hey hey, where do ya think yer going mate? Why, I'm going to California I replied, to see my friends down by the seaside. And the bastard most rudely cut me off; I didn't ask you to ramble on like a fool in the rain mate, it was a simple question. Thank you, I replied. And interpreting my genuine courtesy as an affront, the rover reared up on his hind legs and proclaimed: prepare to be trampled under foot (but even more frightening to me was the moby dick on this mutt).
So I prepared to face my adversary, like achilles last stand, when the mutt broke out a smile and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black and said, mate -- what we have here is a communication breakdown.
And I could see the years weighing down on the poor canine as he poured our drinks and related his story, from the dancing days of his misspent youth, to the time he narily escaped the gallows pole. Good times, bad times.
And as we gazed into the light of the ugly moon, I empathized with the poor creature. That's the way isn't it, the song remains the same, What is and what should never be.