And last night I saw a naked cowgirl.
She was floatin’ across the ceiling.
She was mumblin to some howlin’ wolf
about some voodoo healin’.
I know I’ve been a little sparse recently and I’m sorry, I do appreciate that if you don’t hear from me every 48 hours you get a little empty feeling at the back of your soul that you just can’t shake, no matter what excesses and debauchery you stoop to in order to assuage your mortal feelings. Basically it’s down to a nasty combo of Wi-Fi problems and the ridiculous pace of life in the 1537 household recently – that real life thing has no right to interfere with my blogging as far as I’m concerned and whilst I’m not a violent man* I honestly couldn’t guarantee Wi-Fi’s safety if I ever stumbled across it in a dark alleyway.
BUT this morning at 6am I had the pleasure sorrow of waving off Mrs 1537 and the mini-1537s for a week away. Which basically means that apart from two days at work next week I’m free to sate all my most despicable, depraved whims as long as my knees hold out. It will be like the last days of Rome here this week. The tales of late night air guitaring, drinking juice straight from the carton, wearing the same socks for 3 days straight and eating peanut butter with a spoon shall be legion.
In fact come round and we can party like the hell-bound beasts we are! Obviously whilst making sure any records played are treated properly and returned to their correct place on the shelves in strict alphabetical then chronological order, there’s a strict no shoes rule in the front room, we’ll need to keep the volume down after 9 because otherwise it wouldn’t be fair on Gladys next door and I’ll expect you to stack the dishwasher carefully too – but otherwise let’s party like its 1899!** In between it all, I intend to do a bit of blogging and float the 1537-onaught off the Sandbank of Idlenessosity on which it has run aground*^.
To this end I found myself stocking up on the rock yesterday. I snagged a copy of ZZ Top Recycler, which I used to own on cassette and don’t remember being as bad as everyone thought at the time; Mother’s Finest Iron Age which I’ve wanted since reading about it in a Kerrang! 100 Greatest metal LPs booklet 27 years ago; Girlschool Hit And Run on original red vinyl, classic Brit rock and an LP that I remember loving as a kid, Dire Straits. Oh and a US Import 7″ white label, Mugstar Kabuki Skull / Goat Head.
So let’s set the controls for the heart of the sun and get this mutha airborne!
Say goodbye to the bad times
Now I’m free on my own
Hit and run (x12)
546 Down (still).
*at least not in between those little psychotic episodes I have (twitches uncontrollably).
**which if I don’t slow down my buying, it soon will be!
*^well, unless the weather’s decent, in which case I’ll go and do some mountains instead – but let’s gloss over this inconvenient truth for now.