After listening for the fifth time, I felt like crying. Otherwise it’s quite a happy track I discovered when our relation was all downwards already and I was going out drinking on my own and flirting with straight strangers who had no romantic interest in me whatsoever. Some things are not appreciated unless they’re gone. I am talking about what we had together.
There is music I never knew I had.
So here I were with my thoughts, longings and mostly feelings, loading the washing machine. And as if the day couldn’t go any worse, despite the sun shining in the sky, yes, there is no connection between the weather and one’s mood, my iPhone started to shuffle into my ear.
First there was this lady, Amy. Then there were these guys. And I was listening to the words like they were talking to me, like I was talking to myself. I know, it’s crazy, I am crazy sometimes. Reassuringly enough, we all are.
Doll, I’m fine.
The dog has put me to the ground today. We were rollerblading in the park. My foot hurts now. It didn’t then. Anyways.
I got a mohawk haircut. A bit tilted. But it’s fun. It’s supposed to be that way. Fun, and tilted.
“What has inspired you to do that?”, he asked. “Not having to see clients”, I replied promptly. “I do FTP these days.”
The other absolutely extraordinary piece of news is that Parov Stelar has messaged me on Twitter, suggesting junodownload.com, when I have complained that his album is not available on iTunes Romania. So, here I am at 3 in the morning, listening to that, his latest release, Coco. After the call from the bank checking the validity of the internet card transaction. Pretty amazing stuff. Pretty good release!
Let me post a picture of the un-named one 
It’s been such a day. Move that to the left. No, too much, more to the right. Make that bold. Can we have it regular? I think it should be easier to spot that bit, maybe turn it into bold font, what do you think? kinda manoovering… but I’m smiling. I know the client. I know the material.
OK, not pages-pages, webpages, my webpages. Yesterday! Why? How come, overzealous reader?Madonna’s concert was also OK, a few feet away from the stage. Others report crappy organization and dust in the park. I myself have spotted mosquitoes 
In the room next door, which I can see through the glass walls, a stingo with a newly found respect for women and men who do their toe nails (it’s tough, not just smacking some paint on as some will have you believe) is dancing like crazy to the sound of Celebration, Madonna’s soon to be released single.
“Now whenever you’ll be listening to this song you will remember Amsterdam”. That put a big smile on my face.
DM’s Peace was written for me. More precisely for me at this point in time. There is just hope, not certainty, in this definitive “will come to me”. Hope I have. There are no guarantees in life, there will always be a little bugger of some kind to f*ck it all up for you and make you f*ck off, let’s face it. But it is important to stand up and against following each blow. Read and listen. I would like to dedicate this to my dearest friend in her time of need: leave anger in the past with all the shadows that it cast, there is no space for the regrets you must remember to forget.
Peace will come to me
Peace will come to me
I’m leaving bitterness
Behind this time
I’m cleaning up my mind
There is no space
For the regrets
I will remember to forget
Just look at me
I am walking love incarnate
Look at the frequencies
At which I vibrate
I’m going to light up the world
Peace will come to me
Peace will come to me
I’m leaving anger in the past
With all the shadows
That it cast
There is radar in my heart
I should have trusted
From the start
Just look at me
I am a living act of holiness
Giving all the positivity
That I possess
I’m going to light up the world
Peace will come to me
Just wait and see
Peace will come to me
It’s meant to be
Peace will come to me
Just wait and see
Peace will come to me
It’s an inevitability
“Like a grain of sand
That wants to be
A rolling stone
I want to be the man
I’m not,
And have the things
I really haven’t got
And that’s a lot
There’ll be joy
And there’ll be laughter.
Something big is what I’m after now
Yes, it’s what I’m after now
After taking, take up giving,
Something big is what I’m living for
Yes, it’s what I’m living for
Living for
Why must I go on
And fill my life with little things
When there are big things I must do
And lots of dreams
That really should come true
Before I’m through”
Apparently someone thought I should know about this. Thanks.
I don’t. But I know what I am going to do on 26 August!
This all too familiar truths are well told by Amy. Amy, only one suggestion. This is what I thought I heard the first time, and it made me laugh hysterically:
“You can’t SEE down right,
Cuz you jeans are too tight”
Anyways, here goes, pure genius on repeat:
Lyrics to Fuck Me Pumps:
When you walk in the bar,
And you dressed like a star,
Rockin’ your F me pumps.
And the men notice you,
With your Gucci bag crew,
Can’t tell who he’s lookin’ to.
Cuz you all look the same,
Everyone knows your name,
And that’s you whole claim to fame.
Never miss a night,
Cuz your dream in life,
Is to be a footballers wife
You don’t like players,
That’s what you say-a,
But you really wouldn’t mind a millionaire.
You don’t like ballers,
They don’t do nothing for ya,
But you’d love a rich man six foot two or taller.
You’re more than a fan,
Lookin’ for a man,
But you end up with one-nights-stands.
He could be your whole life,
If you got past one night,
But that part never goes right.
In the morning you’re vexed,
He’s onto the next,
And you didn’t even get no taste.
Don’t be too upset,
If they call you a skank,
Cuz like the news everyday you get pressed.
You don’t like players,
That’s what you say-a,
But you really wouldn’t mind a millionaire.
Or them big ballers,
Don’t do nothing for ya.
But you’d love a rich man six foot two or taller,
You can’t sit down right,
Cuz you jeans are too tight,
And your lucky its ladies night.
With your big empty purse,
Every week it gets worse,
At least your breasts cost more than hers.
So you did Miami,
Cuz you got there for free,
But somehow you missed the plane.
You did too much E,
Met somebody,
And spent the night getting caned.
Without girls like you,
There’d be no fun,
We’d go to the club and not see anyone.
Without girls like you,
There’s no nightlife,
All those men just go home to their wives.
Don’t be mad at me,
Cuz you’re pushing thirty,
And your old tricks no longer work.
You should have known from the jump,
That you always get dumped,
So dust off your fuck me pumps
[ Fuck Me Pumps Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]
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