Monday, 6 September 2010


Long silence.
Awkward silence.
Nothing more awkward than taking a long walk with your ex.
Why the aggravation?
Why say yes in the first place?
We’ll it’s just walking and talking.

Long fucking silences...

“How’s the new band jelling?”
”Someone filled in for Paige last time.”
“You’re not even asking me to join now?”
“I’d know you’d say no, Lana.”
“What made you so sure?”
”I’ll think about it is not the same as a yes.”
“So, you like her?”

Long Silence...

“Heard about an episode of you.”
“From who.”
“I’m just worried."
“Fuck ‘em.”
“Shibuya.” “Your last gig.” "You went.." "Ian Curtis."
“You don’t own the rights to me no more.”

“What was it? Speed?” Meth?”
“Fuck off.”
“Look it’s just I’m worried.”
“Don’t fucking be.”

Random kiss.
Random long one.
Fast forward.
Why do people always smoke after sex?
I still couldn’t answer that fucking question.

“This is getting to be shit.” “Lock the door when you go.” “This means nothing, and I’m saying this so you don’t get any bright ideas.”
“Fine.” “I’m such a lightning rod for troubled people.” Thinking out loud..
"Paige was just perfect but you let her go.” “And fucking forget me.”

A little thud. A click of the door. And he’s gone.
Time for a long, hard cry.
For Lana that is.
Drummer girl.

For us guys?
We don’t fucking cry.
We do something else.

This is definitely shit.
Anyway, take the “Love Bus” home.

Fucking things still run.


“There’s no song about Thursdays.”
“There is?”
“Then fucking what?"

“Monday is always blue.”
“Or manic.”
"Or always hating it."

“ Tuesdays?”
“Nah. Just a band name.”
“Aimee Mann’s band”.

“Wednesday Adams!”
"That's not a song"
"Do you know a girl or a guy with the name "Thursday"?"
"Good fucking point."

“There’s Friday…”
“ I know.”

“ Saturday Night Fever!”
“Tony Manero!”

“ Sunday Morning”
“Love Nico.” *sighing*

“And Thursday?”
“Nothing.” *thinking*

"Fuck, you're right."

"But there are lots of songs about nothing..