Anyway, since I don’t communicate well from the pit, I’ll make do with
throwing up the video to one of my all time favourite songs. It’s arguably the cleverest
pop song ever written (which is a pretty extravagant claim since I haven't heard every pop song ever written, but I'll forgive myself.) It’s dedicated to my curious predilection for things NYist, to Zoe who
lives in New York,
and to Maddie and her mum who almost do. I don’t know whether or not it helps
to know who Howard Johnson is (or was.)
Monday, 27 May 2013
From the Pit.
I’ve been having trouble climbing out of the pit this week.
Every time I got close, something else came along to push me back in again.
Eventually, you just get tired of the effort. I need either a lift or somebody
to donate a baseball and glove. Which reminds me of the saddest true story I
ever heard, the one I said I’d never tell. So I won’t.
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4 comments:
We've been worried about you!
Don't know any Howard Johnson except for the motel chain.
Hope you get out of that pit soon.
Maddie's Mum aka Nancy
Thank you, Mrs K. It's been a tricky five days. I think my HSP is coming into its own.
(I really must make a post about HSP. Society makes no allowance for it, you know - and it should.)
Anyway, the first two lines from one of my favourite Luke Kelly/Dubliners songs:
Whiskey, whiskey, Nancy Whiskey,
Whiskey, whiskey, Nancy-o.
Being a scotch fan, I kept missing the 'e.' Good name.
Yes, please do write a post about HSP. Supposedly %20 of the population suffers from HSP, I know I certainly do.
Feeling your pain,
n.
I have it in mind, Nancy. The more I think about it, the more difficult it is to strike the right balance between brevity and a reasonably comprehensive outline. And I can only do so based on how it affects me. But I'll give it a go.
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