in the car coming into london tonight, we were cruising down the finchley road enjoying how heavy winter mist make streetlights glow like olden days of chimney smoke. riding along through the north part of town, george michael drifted into our conversation for the 100th time…he would’ve been real familiar with the area, and only this day last week he was alive and able to drive down here himself… i wrote a thing about him a few pages ago and thought about how it could have been written a whole lot better… it’s too easy getting caught up in all the hows or whys,then loosing sight of what a brilliant life he had… of course he had his trouble, but when i stand right back and take my nose out of his private business it’s clear he shuffled off knowing how exquisite life can actually get if you leap far. how fantastic to have written such smooth sumptuous music… the moment that solo career kicked in, i along with loads of others were all ears. we were watching that paris concert on telly a few nights ago loving every moment of it…his singing is surely up there with tony bennet or frank sinatra..no question. there’s something about the greeks that’s highly musical…music is an important part of their culture.. they’ve a feel for melody.. very much like italians or irish in those ways… luxurious melodies.. deep high emotion.
even his passing has an exquisite side…i mean seriously…there are far worse places to die than in your own bed while the christmas tree lights twinkle in the garden and around the house…to die in a fur lined bubble like that is a pretty sumptuous way to go… that darling man lived a great life..he went all the way up and landed softly on the other side..so much better to have lived with all the scuffs and scrapes of desire and sensation, along with nice houses in various parts of the world, than to have lived a lengthy inhibited life without any of those glorious experiences…yet for all of that i just feel real melancholy…just like the day david bowie died, only different… if that makes any sense. those two deaths bookend the year for lots of us.
nearly everyone i know loathed 2016, mainly for the way others casted their vote in the various referendums and elections. i get nervous when i read nigel farage calling vladimir putin a great operator.. the whole trump affair..these specimens seem like they’re cut from the same crap cloth, and the big brains who know far more than i ever will, talk of a dreadful unravelling.
for 2017 i hope to remain keen and curious in the face of everything. i’m 57 now.. it’s odd how a need to toy around, read and laugh more became more important to me about five years ago. some say as you get older you get tired of places like london, but i love it more than ever, viewing it through freshly dazzled eyes, it’s so darn pretty, dark and dangerous while also offering sanctuary. technology..guitars..synthesisers..cameras. these things feel very much like crayons to me in these later years. sitting here writing these completely unimportant paragraphs on a keyboard feel like throwing mucky clay down on a wheel. language is its own box of crayons..i wish that for everyone. fucking crayons dear. playfulness.. we learn a lot during playtime..if y’know what i mean
lots of love and crayons for you in 2017
mary fairy liquid.