Posted by: Bruce | December 31, 2020

You don’t treat me no good no more – Sonia Dada 1992

A New Years Resolution for some? I like it.

Words for today; Happy New Year

More to come; same blog time, same blog channel

Posted by: Bruce | December 30, 2020

Laid – by James 1993

I think this track goes well with my last post which featured Lady Chatterley’s Lover from 1928.

Word for today; Laid – well, just laid. Lyrics below

More to come; same blog time, same blog channel


This bed is on fire with passionate love
The neighbours complain about the noises above
But she only comes when she’s on top

My therapist said not to see you no more
She said you’re like a disease without any cure
She said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no

Ah, you think you’re so pretty

Caught your hand inside the till
Slammed your fingers in the drawer
Fought with kitchen knives and skewers
Dressed me up in women’s clothes
Messed around with gender roles
Line my eyes and call me pretty

Moved out of the house, so you moved next door
I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall
I found you sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone
You’re driving me crazy, when are you coming home?

Laid, laid

Lyrics by

Posted by: Bruce | December 30, 2020

Lockdown, libraries and Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

When NSW went into Covid-19 lockdown this year, the doors of many businesses and services were closed including my local library. I don’t watch a lot of telly and have books from the library to keep me entertained. The closing caught me out a little but I had enough for a month or two; maybe longer if I read s l o w l y.

At days end, after a shower and hitting the sack, I look forward to a little escapism before lights out, usually around midnight. Even with my eyes shut I’ll still try to read for 10 minutes.

As lockdown continued, the library books were done. I looked at my book shelf for the next and chose Lady Chatterley’s Lover. I’ve read it twice; once as a young shaver in my second or third year of high school and again only a year or two ago. I didn’t intend reading it again but went to the end of the novel where some history and comments occupied me for a little while.

It was here, in the comments section, that had me thinking about the late 1920’s when this book, by D.H. Lawrence, was published. It was pretty hot for its time (ruled obscene) and banned for about 35 years. I suppose it was about 3 or 4 shades of grey compared to the more modern Fifty Shades of Grey (2011) or a waltz versus Last Tango in Paris (1972). Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence in 1913 was also said by some to be an obscenity. Having read both books twice, I found neither to be obscene but preferred Sons and Lovers.

The comments also had me thinking about social media, in particular Twitter, to which my blog is linked (to spread my fame). Twitter has lots of news and comments. The news media keeps Twitter in the state of ‘The Sky is Falling’ with never ending ‘BREAKING’ bad news. Individual comments, wide and varied, are made by ‘the good, the bad and the ugly’. And some of them are really ugly. So, lights out I pondered on a few things;

  • It’s easier to impress a younger mind with something of little substance
  • Lady Chatterley’s Lover is almost a fairy tale compared to Last Tango in Paris (an empty, soft porn movie)
  • The gutter language in current social media by men and women (Ladies don’t swear, do they?)
  • The bravery or futility of a writer expressing his knowledge of how women think (I’ve given up)
  • I like the comments by wordsmiths
  • I prefer reading books, not screens.

Words for today; Some things change, some stay the same.

More to come; same blog time, same blog channel – next post

Once upon a time, the one and only time, I found myself in a roles reversed position where I received flowers from a fair maiden.

They were delivered to my workplace and I may have blushed. A fine memory.

Words for today; ‘Used-to-be’s’ just lay on the floor.

More to come; same blog time, same blog channel

Lyrics from Musixmatch

You Don’t Bring Me Flowers

Neil DiamondBarbra Streisand

You don’t bring me flowers
You don’t sing me love songs
You hardly talk to me anymore
When I come through the door at the end of the day

I remember when
You couldn’t wait to love me
Used to hate to leave me
Now after lovin’ me late at night

When it’s good for you, babe
And you’re feelin’ alright
Well, you just roll over and turn out the light
And you don’t bring me flowers anymore

It used to be so natural
To talk about forever
But used-to-be’s don’t count anymore
They just lay on the floor till we sweep them away

Baby, I remember
All the things you taught me
I learned how to laugh
And I learned how to cry

Well, I learned how to love
And I learned how to lie
So you’d think I could learn
How to tell you goodbye
You don’t bring me flowers anymore

Well, you’d think I could learn
How to tell you goodbye
You don’t say you need me
And you don’t sing me love songs
You don’t bring me flowers anymore

Songwriters: Bergman Alan, Bergman Marilyn, Diamond Neil Leslie

Posted by: Bruce | October 26, 2020

Sweetest Thing – U2, 1987

I like this. I remember the year.

Lyrics below Video on YouTube.

Words for today; I’m losing you. Ain’t love the Sweetest Thing?

More to come; same blog time, same blog channel

Posted by: Bruce | October 26, 2020

The last bite.

Approaching 11pm last Tuesday night, I was worn out but enjoying some quiet, uninterrupted time at my desktop. A shower and bed was the smart thing to do but I wanted just a bit more of this time, with a snack.

When heading for the kitchen I had a little flashback to one of my early days of high school. Arriving home from school, I found the house devoid of family. This didn’t happen very often and was a moment (hopefully long) to be savoured. I had the telly to myself, Get Smart was on shortly and warm Milo with a thick chunk of bread and honey was all I could ask for.

With the show starting, bread and honey on a plate beside me and a mug of warm Milo sitting on the timber arm at the end of the lounge, I was ready to go. Reaching for the Milo and watching Agent 86 do his stuff, I stubbed my fingers into the mug knocking it to the floor.

The mug didn’t break (rug on floor), the Milo went everywhere. The clock was ticking. I cleaned up, made another mug of Milo and started again. I reached for the Milo (same mug) but this time carefully held the handle, lifted and, with a little ‘tink’, the handle stayed with me but the mug fell away. The first drop must have cracked it.

I cleaned the floor and lounge, made a third mug of Milo, but the show and the moment was over. I had the Milo, with bread and honey, in the kitchen. I guess it was a lesson in life. An empty house heard my complaints.

Back to the future, I returned to the desktop with toast (crunchy) and jam (Forest Fruits). I knocked over the first piece quickly, the second piece slowly. Between thumb and fingers I lifted the final morsel to its destiny. Destiny however had a different idea. In a mug and handle moment, the toast cracked near my fingers, the majority of that morsel dropped, bouncing off the chair into the darkness beneath the desk.

Under the desk is a scary place with fluff, bits of paper, pens, paper clips, shopping dockets and more fluff. With a torch I found the bit of toast and jam. It had really excelled in its bouncing, ending up almost to the wall at the back of the desk and spitting some of its jam around before landing face down. I cleaned up and gave up. I should have gone for the shower.

The photo tells the story.

Words for today: The last bite went to the fluff.

More to come; same blog time, same blog channel

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