So, I was listening to some music a short while ago. A short play list of house tracks I selected to listen to for my ‘Friday night just before payday’ evening. Knowing I’d do very little over the weekend I indulged in a bottle of wine and a bottle of ginger beer when i went to buy the office lottery syndicate’s tickets on the way home. But I digress…

So here I am, thinking to myself, Mmmm yeah nice to hear that track again… the problem with always listening to shuffle mode is I forget those little obscure mixes I often prefer to the ‘main’ one. Then, as I browsed a torrent site looking for inspiration I heard the opening bars to a favourite track that I instantly realised I hadn’t heard for some months, Roland Clarke’s Resist. I don’t care what you think about house music; you may love it, you may hate it. All I ask is that you listen to the words spoken. Less than 6 minutes of your time is all it will take… actually, maybe under 5 as the last minute is mostly instrumental Click to listen

In other news… I watched Hot Fuzz and didn’t find it as funny as the reviews led me to believe it would be… either my sense of humour is fucked (possible) or the general calibre of ‘British’ comedy is so low we all just pretend it’s great… because it’s British. Which is exactly the sort of stunt that fucking Australian/American bastard Murdoch would pull by selling subliminal advertising space to those flogging dead horses… Given the number of homes with fucking Australian/American bastard Murdoch’s satellites tv systems installed, don’t be surprised if you read about the ‘shocking revelations’ of how advertisers used subliminal advertising on network TV with the full knowledge of the network broadcaster in about 30 years time when it’s eventually uncovered… just remember, when it feels like déjà-vu it’s only because you read it here first!

I’ve a few topics that I could blog about, the problem is getting myself in the mood to type it all out. I’m just sometimes a bit of a lazy bastard when I get home… Office for work, home for relaaaaax

I was listening to a track by the gorgeously talented Alicia Keys a few weeks ago and had a ‘blog’ moment. When I have such moments I try and scribble it down on paper as I never remember otherwise, until the next time I hear the song and think, “I should blog this thought!” The problem is, I listen mainly on shuffle mode so who knows how long I may have to wait, hence the post-it notes that litter my desk with things even I have trouble deciphering!

Anyway, one has been reminding me to blog about a track called, You Don’t Know My Name taken from the 2003 release The Diaries of Alicia Keys. If you don’t possess this album go get it.

The track itself is beautiful in so many way, not least the sound of Alicia talking, her honey layered voice has the power to captivate me and I will admit to pretending, on more than one occasion, to being the guy on the other end of the phone

And that made me wonder, what if the guy himself specifically went to the diner every Wednesday to see her? What if he was trying to pluck up the courage to talk to her all this time, unaware that he had caught her eye and she wasn’t going to wait for him to make the first move? What if her telephoning him sent his world crashing around him?! I was also wondering why he only went in on a Wednesday… That made me suspicious, what kind of job only brings a guy into an area one day a week and always a Wednesday? More likely he is a guy with a set routine, Joe’s on Monday, Frank’s on Tuesday, Golden Egg on Wednesday… you catch my drift? He’s a creature of habit and you’d think she’d notice that if he always has the special! But anyway…

I imagined the confusion that might be in his head, all this time longing for this almost ‘unattainable’ girl; creating a fantasy world of what it might be like if they were together, if only he could get over his embarrassment in starting a conversation. And now… now she had called him, made it clear she was interested in getting to know him (what stalker like behaviour from Miss Keys! How did she get his number? It’s a diner, did he pay by Amex?), she was the strong, independent woman he craved and now that he had attained what he assumed was unattainable he realised he now had no idea what to do and that thought scared him more than anything he had ever known.

Of course I also imagined that he’d meet her the next night, whisk her off to a swanky bar for pre-dinner drinks, then an exquisite little French place he knows off the beaten track, a walk barefoot on the beach with the moon hovering just above them, unbelievable sex and in the morning he brings her breakfast in bed with a rose and as he pulls back the curtains a huge orange ball of sun appears to hover outside.

Or they went on a date and discovered that the real extent of their conversations would always consist mainly of, “I’d like the special please”, Would you like a refill?” and “Can I have the check?”.

Then I decided to tune into whatever was playing on shuffle mode as I was getting bored with the good times Alicia was having with another man* but I think it’s true for a lot of people. They, ‘we’, create sometimes a dream that we say we would like to achieve but deep down we know we don’t expect to and we don’t mind, the illusion of aiming high is enough to keep the pressure off one topic, allowing us to focus on other things, like world domination before I’m 43. So when we suddenly have that ‘wish’ come true it should be remembered that not all wishes end up with a happy ending, but that shouldn’t stop us wishing, jeezus christ no!!

Wishing is great, keeping your mind active, even if it is in fantasy mode, you seldom get pissed off with people too much in fantasy mode and if you do, you can always drop an Indian elephant on them :p

The flip side of fantasy is of course reality and sometimes we have to take a good look in ourselves and ask some difficult questions. Questions about ourselves, our friends, our enemies, our lovers, our family, the audience at a Counting Crows concert and how the whole lot goes together. Stick with me here, I think I’m going somewhere…

I asked myself some questions and came up with some answers, answers I’m not sure were right but you know what it’s like. You don’t want to ask someone else as you may reveal yourself for having wildly crazy answers so you figure, “fuck it!”

That’s how I ended up with my answers and the end result was I went through my phone book and decided whether I would stay in contact with the person or if I would sever ties, even if some of the ties were more like strands of thread. I said goodbye dozen or so ‘acquaintances’, 3 or 4 people who were good friends, some I probably loved in my own weird way but with the exception of one I have no regrets. The one I regret I tell myself I shouldn’t, more-so because they never objected to my decision so I figure it wasn’t too much of a problem for them anyway.

As old friends leave, new ones arrive and so time and life goes on, today will be tomorrow’s yesterday and this time may well come again, who knows how many times we’ve been here before and didn’t even notice?

Mr O would like to thank Alicia Keys and a damn fine melody for the inspiration to blog today, click to listen for yourself.

* spot the James (C)/(Bl)unt reference