For all those of generations past, past, present and future who sacrifice their lives so selflessly so that we may enjoy the simplest pleasures and freedoms. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.
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So the clocks have gone back, and this sunday morning we can spend a little longer under the covers. And who better to do it with than the sultry Miss Sinatra? For me It Ain't Babe is perhaps one of the greatest and most sensitive love songs ever committed to record. The strength of feeling it conveys is incredible, the admission that you are wrong for someone seems like a striking declaration ...
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Another post to feed my returning frenzy. Another revelation as to why I have ventured back into this place. Mog has always provided me with catharsis. That shout into the internet abyss, that veil of anonymity. It is the perfect place to throw your thoughts when the clock rings through those early numbers and the evening's alcohol slowly subsides. That time when the humdrum of the day disappe...
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So I tried to leave you. I tried to walk away, abandon you to your musical musings and live entirely in the real world, devoid of my international internet acquaintances. Evidently that has not transpired, and here I am back in your sordid world (ah, you know I love you really). Yet my disappearance from MOG was simply the final act in what had been a long spiral. Somewhere along the road I thi...
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So I tried to leave the MOG. I tried to say goodbye and leave it all behind. But I couldn't. Perhaps I'm too pathetic to stick to anything, even inaction. Or perhaps everybody needs an outlet. Anyway, its been three months. A lot has happened, holidays, expeditions of self discover and the commencement of that bizarre sophomore year (will I hit a slump, who knows?). But here I am. Back amongst ...
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And so it came and went. The Mogiversary. Three years. Where once I would mark them off month by month, this one faded into obscurity. Nothing worth noting, nothing to say. I guess the spark has gone. That's not to say I didn't try. Those late nights, the days I'd check in on you everyday, every hour, just to see how things were going, those times I couldn't tear myself away. But that was a lon...
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How do you turn a duck into a soul singer? Put it in a microwave until its bill withers.
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Evening Moggies, it's been a while. Too long, I would say, but then you guys might have been glad to see me go. But you know life, it intervenes and certain habits occasionally seem to fall by the wayside. The guitar over my left shoulder seems to know that. But sometimes its nice to take them up again, a kind of homecoming, the liberation and relaxation that comes from the familiar, the consta...
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ahhahahahah, yeah right...
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