Like A Starfish
So I drag my sorry ass out of bed at 9.15am, and then drag it back in again when I realise I left the windows open overnight and there are penguins roosting on my wardrobe (not true, but you know...). After this minor relapse and a brief struggle with my conscience regarding the Inland Revenue, it turns out to be 10.00am and I have to listen to The Archers (because I don't think there are enough people living in Salford with an active interest in the everyday stories of farming folk, and I'd hate for the whole ward to get a bad name with farming folk - see, it's altruism more than anything). So then Mrs Trellis calls and we mutually call off lunch because I'm scared I haven't done any work all weekend and she sounds like she needs another three days in bed.
I spend a short while listening to Desert Island Discs before realising that I couldn't give a dog's cock which records Jeremy Irons likes/dislikes/has ever heard even and then get up to go running. I grab my wee mp3 player and poke at the buttons as I set off and end up listening to a mish mash of Bright Eyes and the first Antony & the Johnsons album. That's fine. About 30 minutes in - I'm feeling a bit shit, no spring in my legs and terrible heart burn - I knew I shouldn't have forced half a dozen pieces of stuffed pasta from last night's dinner down my neck as I tripped out of the door - when I get to a song called Divine. I must have heard it quite a few times - even though I haven't listened to the album as much as I Am A Bird Now, I've listened a good amount over recent months - but I don't think I ever listened properly. Wow.
I stopped and stood next to the river basin (see the bobbing pieces of fetid polystyrene drift past the pretty swans, gasp at the array of burst footballs collecting around the feet of the cormorants) and listened again. Now I get it - I had been thinking that the whole album was about end times and the rapture, and it is in a way, but this song is about the Divine. As in the big 'ol gender warrior and taste tester himself. I nearly cried. It is such a beautiful track and so perfectly right. Then I got the rage. [You know like when you first read To Kill A Mocking Bird and wanted to become a single handed avenger of injustice (who did a bit of ballet on the side - or was that just me?) - or when you watched American HistoryX and vow to fight racism until your dying breath.] Just thinking about the beauty of the song and the strange/queer bravery of Divine's choice of expression and the hundreds of thousands that aren't and will never be remembered. If I hadn't been sweating so much from the running I could have sworn I felt a tear - but then I remembered I was standing getting emotional by the side of a river in Salford, about a fist's distance away from the Man United ground, while dressed in lycra - so all in all felt it better to hotfoot it home rahter than prolong the moment. Hey ho.
Did someone mention a rapture
Well I turn to think of you
Who walked the way with so much pain
Who holds the mirror up to fools
So anyway. Spent the afternoon at work getting ready for a big week in both jobs. Had a long talk to MsH who might be coming to live with me for a bit - which would be good fun indeed. We shall see.
Then home to cook and iron and clean. Why do I get these energy bursts at the end of the weekend when the new week is approaching? Saturday morning I could barely be bothered to lever open my eyelids and now I've just ironed everything I own, cleaned the glass dining table (with a special cloth I bought - I so pass my GCSE in Gay), blogged a bit and am even considering a bit of light accountancy... he he he, no I'm not, I'd rather sleep until I wake up in prison...