Posts
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@hotmail.com >
Sent: Wednesday July 31st, 1999 22:21 PM
Subject: I’m actually feeling a little guilty
Sorry Dom, only just got your email...servers been down…been driving me crazy…I thought you might have emailed and I kept checking every five minutes…
Anyway back online now…
Well today was meant to be uneventful…was going to try and compose some music…that didn’t work…beginning to think that maybe the music thing isn’t for me…
it didn’t help that my mother rang to tell me my father had been in contact about the blunt assessment I made of him a couple of weeks back…she thinks I should be more sensitive…but come on, he’s a terrible father…and really I should have nothing to do with him…
…it also really worries me that she always defends him…I mean he cheated on her…
Anyway this stuffed my whole creative spirit and any attempt to write lyrics always had the touch of Plath about it…here’s an example:
“Why do I scare you, Daddy?
I’m small and harmless
Why do you scream when you see my, Daddy?
People say I look just like you…”
So indulgent, it drives me crazy…
So I went for a walk…before I knew it, I was near the city…I thought about walking to the University to see you…didn’t even need you to see me…just wanted to see you…through the window would be fine…
but as I got close to the edge of the city, near Roma Street…I saw Elsa…I think it was Elsa…she was in this car…in the passenger seat…talking to the driver…stopped at the traffic lights…
we made eye contact in that brief moment and I saw something in her face…something like she knew…or I knew…or something secret…I know that seems vague…but that’s the best I can come up with…it was if we understood each other somehow in this brief moment…
…but as I said…it might not have been her…
Anyway this event made me think of you more…and suddenly some lyrics popped into my head…
“In the ocean there’s this buoy
I cling to him in timeless sight
He has a little red light on top of his head
That helps me find him in the blackest night”
Got a melody for it too…I think it’s a little chick-folk…but perhaps with some grunty guitar behind it it could be an ironic pop song…
Fuck…what do I know? It’s probably shit…
Are you at the Uni bookstore tomorrow? I can pretend to be a customer if you like and you can show me something by Henry James while we chat about our infidelity…
I think I’m feeling a little guilty or something…
