Open wound

Wrote a ditty for a little missy,
She wasn’t impressed and said:

Too much blood, too much pain,
Find hope, laugh again…

Had it all, I say,
In buckets and spades,
Then cashed it in for a spin.

Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll,
It all seemed so cool.
Took it to the limit,
Played the perfect fool.

Got off the ride, paid the ticket price,
Stupor wore off,
Time to take stock.

People destroyed – check.
Self contorted – check.
Health destroyed – check.
Reality distorted – check.

Suffer the rule: did the crime, do the time

My life is now an open wound.

Bitches brew

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDTMRUxNLMg

A day trip on youtube led me to look, and find, Bob Marley’s Redemption Song – one searches for what one needs.
Which, of course, led me to find a whole heavenly host of greats performing cover versions.
Which uncovered Sinead O’Connor, and then, Annie Lennox.
This is not so much about who did the best version (though Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder is there with a crazy take), but a reminder of the time when female singers could rely simply on the power of their vocals and some crazy angst.
Creative force did not have room for cheap sex appeal.

Let's talk about sex, baby!

Check this out http://oxbridgesex.blogspot.com/
Now tell me, is it better than 99? A chick writing about sex, and badly at that, has already made headlines across the world. It's just not interesting.
Boy, are we suckers for sex (every pun intended).
Of course I’m tempted. Of course I’ve thought about it. But what would I call the blog.
Sexcapades of a 36-year-old diabetic, recovering alcoholic-drug addict, prone to massive debt and gambling, journalist, father of three?
Is that how I see myself? No. But that’s a blog you’d read, right? The art of sex writing, here I come.