Fishboy suggested starting a support group for those who, despite their 'pinko lefty faux-Gothy underachieving alternative cool façade', fail to worship Radiohead, and actually like Dire Straits. If I manage to get past the old dilemma of whether I would like to be part of a group that would have me as its member, I will apply straight away. I have tried, people of Blogland, I really have; but Radiohead is just like avocado, not in the way that it tastes like wax crayons, but in the way that I would love to like it because it's supposed to improve your life, but just can't. And Brothers is arms makes my eyes well up every time, possibly because it brings back memories of that night at a Dublin funfair in April 1989 when I did all the rides then threw up my fish and chips and Fergal Murphy handed me a tissue and then we kissed. No, not strictly right after. So, Dire Straits. Yeah.
Isn't it typical. Just when I am all psyched up and ready to go, high on
Just as well I have another day of merriment planned for tomorrow with an altogether healthier, and possibly cuter friend. Yay!
From a work colleague on Friday : Oh, your earrings certainly are ..different. You're such a punk!
Well, this punk is going to make mulled wine now, and have fish and chips. To honour the memories, you know.
3 comments:
Ahh.. so many good 80s memories associated with Dire Straits. And the very first time I ever heard a cd played was Love Over Gold on a friend of my brother's phenomenally expensive beatbox. I still love that album..
Dammit, I'm going to go buy a copy today and wallow in teen nostalgia.
No matter how much I ever loathed Dire Straits, they never managed the speed with which listening to Radiohead made me want to slit wrist-flesh (two minutes, since you ask).
Vanessa
It's The Voice. It makes me want to pull out all my nose hair and scream.
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