I Knew The Bride Bride - Dave Edmunds

Well, the bride looked a picture in the gown that her mama wore
When she was married herself nearly twenty-seven years before
She had to change the style a little but it looked just fine,
They stayed up all night, but they got it finished just in time
Now on the arm of her daddy, she's a-walkin' down the aisle
And she catches my eye and she gives me a secret smile
Maybe it's too old-fashioned, but we once were close friends
Oh but the way that she looks today, she never could have then

Well I can see her now in the tight blue jeans
Pumpin' all the money in the record machine
Spinnin' like a top, you shoulda seen her go
I knew the bride when she used to rock and roll

At times, the ideal analogy of life is that of a record on a table-top player. It spins, sometimes fast which causes the voice of the singer to turn from whatever famous characteristic it's got into a version of Donald Duck at the circus. Sometimes it spins slower, making it more akin to funeral basoons in the Tibetan mountains. At other occasions, it just spins, indefinitely and indeterminably. Round, round, round, but not stopping until you turn the player off. I guess that termination of movement signifies sleep in this analogy, or possibly death.

Likewise, the analogy has never been as suitable for my life as it has been the past days, more accurately since this Tuesday. Impressions, persons, responsibilities and possibilites take turns occupying my attention span and for the first time in ages, I feel that I almost have too little spare time to be entirely functional -- at least on a basic level, such as when it comes to keeping your room in order, taking your meds on time or go grocery shopping. The evenings have instead been filled with talking to the pleasant oddities populating my corridor; going out to, for our part, newly-opened establishments with dear old as well as new friends; or partying, either through enjoying what I must now consider commodities or through partying for real. As I weite this I've just gotten goodnightkisses from two slightly bearded corridormates -- one of whom fate cruely will take away from us within a week, damn it into eternity -- and have spent the evening talking, laughing, drinking and crashing another corridor.

It might also be worth noting that the conversations held in the sofa in the SSKK -- more about that on another occasion -- kitchen were of such a kind that I would hardly be able to repeat it to any earlier acquaintance without either blushing or being slightly embarassed. I blame alcohol and the fact that the small gathering consisted exclusively of guys. With that said, this will be an enjoyable year if it continues as it started.

It's hard to fathom, but I've actually moved away from home. I live on my own, even if I'm not alone, and my nights have gotten increasingly longer ever since I moved. All in all, the past days have witnessed a change in my life that is irreversible as well as welcome, daunting yet tempting. A change that I believe I've been waiting for, whether I knew it or not. The possibility to call a friend and ask her to pop over for a cup of tea makes for a humongous change in itself, the need for grocery shopping and cooking on my own complements it.

It's getting late, and I should get up early tomorrow to return to Ystad, leave things and fetch things, receive blessings and food packages, and return to the Klondike of my life. What irks me slightly and pleases me in a masochistic way is that tonight's sleep most likely will be ridden with thoughts, hopes and the memory of crushed dreams considering lands left unconquered, no matter how strategic the decision in itself was. I wonder if there are some things that people, no matter their outcome, will curse for the entirity of their lives? A lost opportunity, or the fact that there never was one to start with. Is it something that is forgotten, or can it only be exorcised through the realisation of a naïve dream or hope? Or, even better, is it something that might always be there in fragments but likewise should be pushed out of your mind by your own virtue and resolve?

I speak in tongues, that is a reason as good as any to lay down the pen -- disconnect the keyboard? -- for the night. But likewise, life is good, despite there being some urges that might haunt me forever if I'm unlucky.

I'm still lucky though, in the context that the urges aren't of such magnitude that anyone should or would need to care. Life's good and lost fruit's lost and that is the way the record will keep rotating 'til you cut the power. Sleep tight.