Monday, 17 December 2012

Maxwell Street

Nothing's bitter everything's sweet
Let's take a ride down Maxwell Street.

Take it slow so everybody sees us
The speed limit is 20 with speed bumps
Milk bottles lay vacant by the front door
Laying waiting for the milk float.

The grass is cut and the spring is in bloom
The hayfever makes you sneeze through the roof.
And the sky even though it turns it black
Give it a few minutes for the blue to come back.

Put the car into gear, head down
as the sun shines off of our wet hair
Stop every now and then outside a girl's door
give her a wink so she wants the whole show.

Bands play in their garage
loud enough to be heard
Pass the word around
there's a party going on downtown.
Everyone's invited it's a family affair
just long enough because we care.

But the lonely are the nights
when the street lights are turned on
Its a calling card from democracy
to turn the TV on.
But that won't happen s long as we're here
we're tired of waiting for the coast to be clear.
We've got each other
an equal heartbeat lets take a long drive
down on Maxwell Street.

Venting Post - These Times of Ours

Working in the customer service industry as I do can be somewhat frustrating - the customers are always right they say, even when they are wrong; is the oldest adage in the world, but come on you cannot come to a bar and complain that the beer is too gassy as one customer did the other weekend.  That customer was female which made the complaint both depressing and mortifying at the same time.  Have a wine dear next time.

Yet the other galling thing is having to work with people of very different generations.  You are aware that the generational gap is getting larger, and the gaps more apparent than before.  When I was growing up, my parents were very aware of who was Top of the Pops mainly due to there only being four channels and the more mainstream artists being more clear cut.

Nowadays, tastes and genres change from week to week rather than year to year as it did in the mid 1990s with Britpop.  How long did Britpop last for, it seemed since the release of Oasis' second album (What's The Story) Morning Glory? until the release of their disappointing third album, Be Here Now.

Yet I worry about the youth of today and what they are actually taught in their schools.  Apart from the necessary times table and algebra which is rendered redundant by the time they leave school for the final time.  The lack of mental arithmetic ability is bewildering in the youth, I continue to watch darts not because I think they are great sportsmen, but the numbers game is playing in my head.

Yesterday, I went for lunch at Langan's Brasserie in London, this restaurant was once owned by Michael Caine.  When I told my staff members of this fact, two of them were mute to that nugget of knowledge - the pair of them both under 20 did not know who Sir Michael Caine, one of our finest actors ever who has starred in Zulu, Alfie, The Italian Job and most recently as Batman's butler, Alfred.

This incident reminded me of the time another girl years ago had never heard of Bob Dylan, if Mr.Dylan had kept his birth name of Robert Zimmermann I could understand this oversight, but my God one of the greatest wordsmiths and musicians of the 20th century has been forgotten about by a new generation.  Even I am up to date and able to tell the difference between Labrinth and Tinie Tempah, although I still get Ant and Dec mixed up.

Later that same night the bewilderment rained down, when we watched BBC Sports Personality of the Year, and the vignette for Seb Coe was playing with his IOC colleague The Princess Royal appeared on screen to speak laudly of Lord Coe.  The other worker on this evening said, 'She looks like the Queen'.

I replied, 'That's the Queen's daughter'.

'The Queen has a daughter!'

It quickly came apparent that all of the staff did not know that our Queen of 60 years had been rather busy in the bedroom and had children other than Charles.  They did not even know that she had four children in total, and then the really good question was, 'So who was Diana's Mum?'

So members of the viral generation, thought Diana was born into the royal family, I had to remind them that Diana married into royalty much like Catherine Middleton has done.  Hence why it is called a Cinderella story/romance/plot device.

The fact about the Queen's motherhood was reinforced today when two more members did not know again about her four children, and they could not name either Andrew or Edward when prompted.  Apparently, the lineage of our Queen is not taught in our schools, as is nothing of our domestic history post World War II.  Millions of children are not learning about rationing, the Suez canal crisis, the troubles in Northern Ireland and the Falklands.

More and more of these incidents and accidents, the hints and allegations (sorry I've started quoting Paul Simon's 'You Can Call Me Al' - the beauty of stream of consciousness), will become more and more often so longs as children of this viral mE generation get their head out of the phones and into some more books.

Now if only they did not keep shutting down the libraries we used to know.

Friday, 14 December 2012

Sensational construction

I once wrote a story which was too close to life.
Hidden meanings and readings unconsciously were written down.
It came out in one go a stream of thought
hoping the feelings I want are caught.
Read between the lines
Constructive criticism of what goes on in my mind.
Keeping it straight.
Pulling it together to deliberate.
Dipping for words.
Listening intently to what I've just heard.
What I just wrote
The hidden utopian
Repressions and hopes
All at once on the screen
Who smell the green.
Taking it slowly
One step at a time
Like a French new wave
In my mind.
Piecing a puzzle
which is all my own.
The sensationalised
Fantasised story
of a man homegrown

Time Waits

Time waits for no man
But I wait for it.
No-one knows my plans,
It's a secret.
I am growing tired
Ready for bed.

So take me and lay me,
Let me be
Careless and single
I need a drink
So take me and lay me,
Let me be

My back is aching
I need a rest
My room is tidy
I feel like a mess
My head is full
and my soul is empty

But if you take me as I am
I would happily lie down
If you lay me
by your side.
I'll feel nothing when I touch down.
Just take me and lay me
Let me be.
Careless and single,
attending AA
So lay me and leave me
I'm not worth it.


The blossoms bloom upon the pine
Look out my window at a quarter past five
And I see things that I've never seen before
a flat tyre on a new four by four.
The rain beats down upon the pavement below,
its falling faster harder upon the window.
Almost suddenly the clouds they clear
and the sun appears oh how so rare.
It reminds me of a smile I knew
that disappeared away from view.
And all at once the stress has gone,
it feels wonderful to see the sun
and I feel happy.