I’ve just watched the video of The Pogues and Kirsty McColl’s
version of Fairytale of New York, and
I had a sudden thought. Maybe life is nothing more than a night spent in the
drunk tank. That’s how it feels sometimes: just passing the time while trying
to sober up.
And there are at least two connections here with the Woman
in America. Her
presence presses all sorts of buttons; her silence haunts me mercilessly.
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