Fragmentation grenade
Nov. 15th, 2002 02:53 pmIn hell. There are your imperfect memories, safe from harm and fun to look
it. Here is fingernail-scraping reality: All of what happened, all the time.
Embarassment, awkwardness, inappropriate drunkenness. Hell is perfect,
malevolent recall of every dumb thing you ever did - friends don't tell
friends what they did last night.
it. Here is fingernail-scraping reality: All of what happened, all the time.
Embarassment, awkwardness, inappropriate drunkenness. Hell is perfect,
malevolent recall of every dumb thing you ever did - friends don't tell
friends what they did last night.
no subject
Date: 2002-11-15 09:22 am (UTC)So what did you do last night ?
PS - There's a definite Cronin resemblance in that picture.
no subject
Date: 2002-11-15 09:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-15 10:45 am (UTC)When can we attend Hirez writing master classes?
no subject
Date: 2002-11-15 12:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 08:34 am (UTC)Was grovelling through mail archive in search of a phrase - 'The Empire heavy-lift and intra-orbital navigation company' - and found that as well.
If it's about anything (and it seems to mean a set of different things for different people, which is a good thing) at all, it concerns attempts to re-run a club-night-thing or some other random doomed youth-reliving malarkey. I don't want things remembered for me wholesale, because, well...
Here's its companion piece. Rendered in a fit of drunken anger after being forced to view the Mission.
Nostalgia's for bastards too tired to think for themselves, so they
return to hide in some mythical golden age where the speed was always
top quality and the hitching was easy. The fact that there are bands
that I respected at one time who'll take the Man's Shilling and turn
the same old toss out night on night depresses me intensely - but
then I don't have to go see them, and what's another twatty
tribute-band at the end of the day? Bunch of plumbers disguised as
musicians: clock on, rock out, fuck off.