spend some time together he said, writesome songs he said,... he didn't say anything about possessed cats and carlos having to get his eyeball stitched up... oh we're together but something has finally given....
This is a bit of me I thought, choosing the coldest room in Mr Magees big old stone house in the black hills. A boingy old brass rust bed and victoriana arcady, reading couch, bandylegged desk. We set up a little studio with the bilo recorder and mimi amps in the echoey 'library' room. Some fine new compositions being sown and reaped in the harvest of souls, then explosions and bloodshed and oh me lonely horrors as Alan whisks the delerious biggles off to hospital, then the eye hospital. sex symbol in an eye patch? buccaneers indeed.
Spent the day rolling in and out of undressed dreams, watching jesusandmarychain video and listening to Olucky man soundtrack, newyorkdolls, morrissey, magicandmedicine, thewho, dylan, roomonfire, waiting for them to come back from the operation
screamadelica now as I stare out into pitcher full of blackness, not a light save for the murky stars.
The three of us dined together again tonight. Carl very spun out, theanaesthetic wearing off I seen doom in his face.
I went upstairs after and sat on his bed and we were laughing about things afore too long. I told him he was my best friend and I care for him so much, am worried about him, and love him. He held me and said 'Its been a long time since you said that'
I can hear him now, brightening up, joking with Alan, we're all gonna watch a peter sellers film I think, or the wicker man, there is no time here.
I'm gonna tell you some private things cause you can keep secrets, you are the internet. you know somehow, I'm scared for the lot. all or nowtSomething unavoidable is at my door and I have to answer soon.
Old rage was never smothered by pleasant attentions and flatterring gesture, its unholy and its still in his hearts belly. Imagine a terrible sensation, memory jolted, in awe and disgusted
someone hurting themself so badly life is mocked, the incurable ache, the devestation.
someone sends me a text, they are wrong when they write:
'peter you are an evil, manipulative jealous bastard. You've hurt carl one too many times'
I think its from carls girlfriend, who I once....
is that what it was all about? that and totpops and the door kick down theft and his sister and songwriting credits
ah cruel fates, do you think I dont want him to be happy, fuck you anonymous mug, nogood fucking tart..
no.. it was the whiskey..always the whisky, and the bathroom mirror and oh sweet jesus
Alan Magee "oh great, I've taken on a band witha genius singwriter witha penchant for crack and a sex symbol who likes to beat himself up"
Biggles walking round delerious still, singing a great new song, something about 'likely lads' or so. I showed him what I wrote. He looked all aghast and said in a faraway voice 'we're so glad you came says a nursey'
oddly boy.
no drinkies tonight thats for sure, Mr Magee's on standby, and a little freaked out after recent catastrophes.
seems like I have a wee flat to return to in whitechapel
somewhere nice and pokey apparantly to ward off a party vibe. hmmm.
We gander through cyberspace 'why does noone write to me on .org, they should call it peter.org the fuckers'
'because you never post on it'
'oh yeah, well I will now. I've got a great login name'
'what is it?'
and so to bed, to watch the wickerman on biggles' dvd.
'scary magregor' he says 'I'll make some tea'
ah, aint she sweet? night all
Pete Doherty, co-leader de l'ex-sensation rock anglaise The Libertines, a été libéré de prison le mercredi 8 octobre au matin. C'est en appel qu'a été annulée la peine prononcée contre lui de six mois ferme peine disproportionnée pour un casse psychodramatique bénin (une guitare et des croquettes) au domicile de son alter ego guitariste-chanteur libertin, Carl Barât. Sitôt Pete Doherty relâché, métamorphosé par sa cure de geôle, avec un cheveu ratiboisé d'enfant, les faux frères se sont retrouvés, manifestement bourrés la caisse ensemble pour changer, avec à la clé show des retrouvailles au pied levé, en formation complète, le soir même. Dont photo sur le vif ci-dessus. Les affaires reprennent, le nouvel album du groupe, qui devenait hasardeux, retrouve une actualité. Après deux ans de sabordage organisé, les Libertines, restés jusqu'ici une promesse, se décideraient-t-il à prendre tournure ?.
It remains a promise. The photos froze the day the moment the stare the feeling sitting there looking at me slightly askew the frame losens the balance.
man looks up on a yellow sky
and the rain turns to rust in his eye
rumours of his health are lies
old england is dying
his clothes are dirty shade of blue
and his ancient shoes worn through
he steals from me and he lies to you
old england is dying
still he sings an empires song
and still he keeps his beliefs strong
and he sticks his flag where it all belongs
old england is dying
you're asking what makes me sigh now
what it is makes me shudder so
well I just FREEZE in the wind
and I'm numb from the pummeling of the snow
that falls from high in yellow skies
where the well loved flag of england flies
Where the homes are warm and the mothers sigh
where comedians laugh and babies cry
where criminals are televised politicians fraternized
journalists are dignified and everyone is civilised
and children stare with heroin eyes, heroin eyes, heroin eyes
Old England!
evening has fallen
the swans are singing
the last of Sundays bells is ringing
the wind in the trees is sighing
and old england is dying
fame elusive fame actions guided by nightmares becoming nightmares leading to nightmares the loop is looping it's nevrending loops and bows am I your god who the fuck is god anyway.
fame elusive fame just round the corner can you play guitar boy? you have it within your reach what's a one-digit figure repeat myself I'm sure I said it prove genius before wreaking havoc, the advice of an old owl as Mr. Bigglesworth said was it really him? it was funny anyway.
I wanted to write last night nightly musings always inspire me more but M was asleep couldn't wouldn't didn't want to turn dreams into alcoholic daze of late waking hours Jason reminds me of Carl unbelievable the way he moves the birthday shot shambles later in the background T asking what's a lilo asking me, couldn't believe it je suis l'étrangère having to explain good ol' britishness to the dogs of the land.
I have been trying to practise the trick of the fag, mine always droops down the side of my mouth but the teeth thing looks funny, what a lady of quality as that .... used to say.
and what about the baby boy egocentricity taking over everything it's sad amazing tearful a scenery the mind boggles does this man ever feel like reaching out, ego the size of a small african country, fine fine no monster yes monster truly the daylight makes words so meaningless. I have been stunning myself to sleep these past weeks any time I forget the dose I have wild sad dreams and wonder why.
children are cruel, they are adults in miniature, not innocence in those hurtful words and no excuse the child is overold. feelings feelings comme M a dit, it's nice to be nice parfois, mate.
I wonder if part of it is the fact that I like B better than B, you one knows these things one feels it if I was a hero type of gal he'd be my hero but as I spelt before I'm not the heroin type seen it all before sorry for being a lover of originality, t'was a shock seeing you so close the other day and then there we were us three staring down into the smoke while it was happening and then later telling that girl... ah why feel responsible but it is sad, you know.
Moving, moving, moving again away from the shores of Albion back to reality away from life maybe, those who love me tell me I am looking better than ever before but what's happened to you you used to be ants in your pants now you seem not to care. what shall I say, that my libertine dream has faded? and yet I am scared to pursue it again and renounce the melodies and music that have filled my wandering life of late - help me someone give me an answer I need to know I don't want to decide for myself.
and save me from myself, and save him from hisself. hiss.
Then suddenly Nienor started to her feet, and stood pale as a wraith in the moon, and looked down on Túrin, and cried: 'Farewell, O twice beloved! A Túrin Turambar turun' ambartanen: master of doom by doom mastered! O happy to be dead!' Then distraught with woe and the horror that had overtaken her she fled wildly from that place; and Brandir stumbled after her, crying: 'Wait! Wait, Niniel!' One moment she paused, looking back with staring eyes. 'Wait?' she cried. 'Wait? That was ever your counsel. Would that I had heeded! But now it is too late. And now I will wait no more upon Middle-earth.' And she sped on before him. Swiftly she came to the brink of Cabed-en-Aras, and there stood and looked on the loud water crying: 'Water, water! Take now Niniel Nienor daughter of Húrin; Mourning, Mourning daughter of Morwen! Take me and bear me down to the Sea!' With that she cast herself over the brink: a flash of white swallowed in the dark chasm, a cry lost in the roaring of the river.
as the boy said once his threeminuteattentionspan had not been exhausted, you're alright. or was that before he knew me.
why can't I bring myself to face you. miss the smiles so I put miles betwen us what us anyway.