Saturday, 5 July 2008

Please please please let me get what I want.

"If music be the food of love, play on..." so spoke Orsino in Twelfth Night. Although he does go on to beg for an excess in the hope that too much will cure him of his need - a metaphor for his unrequited love I believe (but don't quote me, I'm not an English teacher). Without wishing to labour this particular point, it's the first bit of the quote that is relevant to me. Music has been a pillar in my life since my teens. It has been the post upon which I have hang important moments in my life; it has provided the soundtrack to the emotion of my life. We all have a soundtrack to our lives, external, internal and always changing.

That said, for as long as I remember I have had songs that live in my head. Some of these are permanent residents. Burnt into the electronic circuits of my brain. They are ridiculous: the theme tune to the 'Sullivans' for instance (a terrible 80's australian daytime soap). They are great: Danny boy (I love that song). These songs seep into to my consciousness and I find myself whistling them absent-mindedly. They are just there.

But, some are temporary visitors. They dominate my brain for a few days and then disappear back into the record cabinet of my mind. It is these that I often reflect perhaps best represent my inner thoughts. And so it was recently that I found my self repeatedly singing 'Please please please let me get what I want' by the Smiths. I have always been a sucker for a bit of melancholy and I know I can be prone to self-pity, but the sentiment of this song seems to fit an occasional UC state of mind I can get into. Sometimes this damn illness drags on and on. It drains you as you go. And sometimes, when I reach that low point, I do cast a despearte gaze around and bitterly think "Why is this happening to me? Why isn't it happening to that guy, or that guy? Why can't I just be 'normal' and not have to spend every waking hour wondering whats happening in my bowel? See, the life I've had could make a good man bad...". Of course, in clearer moments I can be wonderfully objective, count all my blessings, be humbled by inspirational people who face far greater troubles than mine with dignity and gravitas, and keep everything in proper perspective. But the other day I was down low, it was just me and the Smiths... Still, I always know when I'm really on a bummer, cos then I start listening to 'Exit music (for a film)' by Radiohead...

Don't worry though, because yesterday was a Kings of Leon day - until it got stuck in the CD player in the car and brought on the 'roid rage.

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