Take friends, add booze, bake for the entire afternoon/evening/weekend, stir in a dash of YouTube and you will most likely end up smirking at that easy target, the 80s ("you wore what!?")
Which is to say that, back at home and detouring down Memory Lane down that vaugely suspicious alley with a knocked out streetlights that your mum told you never to take a short cut down after a half bottle of rioja (it was actually an illegally purchased half litre of cider at the time but she had no way back then of concieving the dizzy heights we were to aspire to between the end-of-the-Cold War-Round-the-Back -of-the-Reckie and dawning-of-new-World Wine-Bar-Order) one found onself keeping it real with an impromptu disco-for-one (similar concept to the the Silent Disco but more inclusive for the neighbours) when the eye chanced upon a framed photo of turtle watching in Mexico whilst the was reliving its glorious revolutionary teenage years with side helping of maudlin. At this point the ear was heard to remark to the eye "what the f*** happened to you? Turtle watching? Mexico? Ponce".
The eye naturally took issue with this (it had enjoyed the turtle watching trip) but only half-heartedly; somehow it felt like the ear had a point. Thus the killjoy ear managed to deflate the eveing for all the assembled organs (just like any real teenage is highly skilled at doing); they keenly felt the gap between who they had been and who they now were (or formed part of) and went to bed with that feeling of slight regret that occurs when we recall an old friend who, withouth any falling out or concrete reason, we just quietly lost touch with and know we will never see again.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day. And if it didn't things would be horrific (I mean, imagine having to live in 1985 now. Or being a 40 year old teenager, I was enough of a twat back then as it was). Anyway, stop me if you think you've heard this one before...
Which is to say that, back at home and detouring down Memory Lane down that vaugely suspicious alley with a knocked out streetlights that your mum told you never to take a short cut down after a half bottle of rioja (it was actually an illegally purchased half litre of cider at the time but she had no way back then of concieving the dizzy heights we were to aspire to between the end-of-the-Cold War-Round-the-Back -of-the-Reckie and dawning-of-new-World Wine-Bar-Order) one found onself keeping it real with an impromptu disco-for-one (similar concept to the the Silent Disco but more inclusive for the neighbours) when the eye chanced upon a framed photo of turtle watching in Mexico whilst the was reliving its glorious revolutionary teenage years with side helping of maudlin. At this point the ear was heard to remark to the eye "what the f*** happened to you? Turtle watching? Mexico? Ponce".
The eye naturally took issue with this (it had enjoyed the turtle watching trip) but only half-heartedly; somehow it felt like the ear had a point. Thus the killjoy ear managed to deflate the eveing for all the assembled organs (just like any real teenage is highly skilled at doing); they keenly felt the gap between who they had been and who they now were (or formed part of) and went to bed with that feeling of slight regret that occurs when we recall an old friend who, withouth any falling out or concrete reason, we just quietly lost touch with and know we will never see again.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day. And if it didn't things would be horrific (I mean, imagine having to live in 1985 now. Or being a 40 year old teenager, I was enough of a twat back then as it was). Anyway, stop me if you think you've heard this one before...
posted by Kate at 11:58 AM
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