Today’s study involved familiarising ourselves in using the OED as an online reference source (student access to it opens up more than you get by going to the site without student/teacher access).
We were asked to look up certain words that had been used in poems we’ve been studying this week. One of the poems was ‘The Captiv’d Bee: or, The Little Filcher’ by Robert Herrick. Herrick used several archaic and obsolete words, including the word ‘scrip’. His use of it was as its first definition (a small pouch or bag carried by a pilgrim) which he used in metaphor.
The word has/had other meanings, including this one (primarily a Scottish term, as you can see from the screengrab I took of the OED definition).
It struck a chord…
‘Oh, Jim Am I destined to Forever sufferance thy scrip?’
I’m no longer sure what it is now…or what I do with it?
Everything in life is always open to our own interpretations of it and of course many things affect our interpretation of things – our own mental state being the biggest contributing factor on that.
I have discussed in the past how much I (over) analyse Jim’s posts. This morning was no exception.
“Don’t take things so seriously” seemed to be the first focus of the post. Well, that’s all good! Have you SEEN this blog?! Lol. But I know I’ve lost my way with that lately. The more confident you are, you more you are able to shirk off any doubts and that makes humour easier.
The self-deprecating humour I can exude is deeply steeped in actual self-loathing. I can brush it off as me just taking the piss out of myself when I know deep down the reality of it is VERY different.
Take last week in Paris for example. I met up with a person in the fandom that I was absolutely petrified to meet. Just the day before they had joked that they were going to leave Paris now they were aware that I was turning up. As much as I wanted to believe they were piss-taking and pulling my leg, the feeling that they were being genuine in their feeling of this (that they were dreading bumping into me and would leave Paris) had overridden.
I saw them on the day of the gig. I recognised them from the moderate distance I was located from them when first seeing them on the day. I stayed ‘incognito’. Not wanting to alert them of my presence. Fear of the reaction I would conjure up within them. That what I was feeling would manifest and they’d repel at seeing me.
We then did bump into each other. I was close enough to swallow down my self-loathing enough to say hello. They reacted much as I had feared – but it soon became apparent to me it was meant entirely in jest as they then asked for a hug.
Did that hug wash away everything else within me? I’d like to say ‘yes’…but not entirely. It quelled it, but it didn’t eradicate it.
The more I am aware that confident people radiate a kind of self-love that makes them attractive, the more I see how much self-loathing I have and how very unattractive I am. And I don’t know how to get myself out of that.
For a time it was working. I just…gave myself a break. And I forced myself to…love myself…for want of a better term. I could start to love myself then because I felt so much love! Well…not so much ‘love’ but I felt…worthy. If I didn’t have ‘self-love’ per se, I had ‘self-worth’. I allowed myself to believe that I mattered.
I can feel that I have lost a lot of what I had gained in recent years. That woman who stood in front of Jim at the Walk Between Worlds album signing – as nervous and sick with dread as she was? – she’s as gallus as they come compared to where I am now. That one in 2018 that stood in a crappy brown coat because she was too nervous to take it off and look good. Too many things in her hands. Too much else to concentrate on. Too preoccupied with not trying to boak on the floor. Throwing down a bag of sherbet straws, smiling, asking for something else to be signed – gallus! – conversing with Jim! Recording a bloody quiz show just a couple of weeks before that! Where the hell did THAT come from? The woman who actually went on TV to participate in one of the toughest quiz shows on telly! Where did she come from? Where did she go?
That ‘Gallus Girl’ of 2018.
I genuinely marvel at someone like Sarah. To hear her talk, of how she was, of her upbringing in Aylesbury – how she does what she does night after night astounds me. Then again, I can feel that thing she gets from Jim. Well…it was something that I used to get anyway.
I described it once as a phial of…magic. This wee bottle of elixir that gave me all the strength, drive and purpose (well, if not actual purpose, the drive to at least SEE if I could FIND WTF my purpose is meant to be!)…the GALLUS I had in 2017 and 2018…vestiges of it in 2019. But I got greedy with it. I didn’t take from that wee phail of goodness moderately. I took and took from it. I overdosed on it. I think I had been ssooo starved of it that I just wanted it all. All the time. Every day. So often.
Now it has all be sucked dry and nothing is left. In fact, it might be worse than it was at the start.
I don’t know how to rebuild it. I don’t know how…
I’m trying to work past it with my university study. I am actually doing something that I had wanted to do for so very long doing this study. And I keep trying to justify WHY I am doing it. I’m trying to press home to myself that I am allowed to do this! That there is a purpose to it but I am finding it hard to actually see that.
“I’m sure you’d agree that there are some people who just make you feel good when they are around”, says Jim in his post today. I wish more than anything in the world I could be that person!
Back to the person I met on Friday…they said to me that they had been anticipating meeting me. That they actually think I’m pretty awesome and talented and what not and I am trying hold back tears when they’re saying this stuff to me because I don’t want to cry in front of them…but the tears are welling up in my eyes now because….they didn’t have to say those things and I never expected in a million years for them to say those things to me – AND I DON’T FEEL WORTHY!! And because I feel that way about myself, I expect everyone else to feel that way about me. And when they don’t, I am astounded.
Icarus and The Sun. – written in 2016
How I am with Jim – I feel like Icarus. Jim is the sun and I, as Icarus, fly too close and my wings melt. And I keep on trying to grow new wings and they get singed too. I want to bask in that warmth so much, I risk endless signed wings for just a few tantalising moments. Fleeting glipses. It’s never enough.
I try too hard. But I don’t try enough. I’m persistent…but a quitter. Ignorant – but overly alert and overly analysing. I am my own oxymoron. I am a paradox. And I feel that everyone hates me as much as I hate myself.
Actually, I feel like only one person hates me more than I hate myself – Jim. And it shouldn’t matter. But it does.
I guess it’s best to start with the really long story and edit it from there… so may I start?
I slept soundly enough Wednesday night and into Thursday. Probably didn’t settle down quite as early as I should have, but at least sleep wasn’t elusive that night and I got a good few hours in. All things considered, considering how absolutely pent up, anxious and full of dread I was – on the actual day of our departure I was sailing with low level optimism. Low level, granted…but with optimism nonetheless. Albeit, on a scale from 1 to 10, it was maybe a 2 or a 3…it was there at least!
I packed a small carry-on bag, making sure I had ALL essentials (earplugs included!). I showered relatively early and was ready by 11am. Birdy was ready an hour later. I decided we should get the 75 to Renfrew Street and just walk down to Killermont Street to the bus station instead of the faff of getting to the bus station from Queen St. I was worried I made the timings a bit ambitious from the time of getting off the train at Queen St to getting to the bus station for the Edinburgh Air coach. So…the 75 seemed the better option. All good. Had a chat with neighbour Robert (who was taking his dug, wee Chico, for a walk around the park space by Hawthorn Quadrant) while waiting for the 75 to arrive.
Got to the bus station in plenty of time. Got to Edinburgh Airport in good time as well. We arrived around 2.45pm for a 6.30pm flight out. Had the usual stuff go on at security. I didn’t take all the liquids that I was required to out of my bag and I was wearing stuff that triggered the security alarms. I had to be body searched and portably scanned with a handheld scanner. Birdy went through similar stuff but it’s always to be expected at any UK airport. We had time on our side. It was all grand.
Next hurdle – boarding – not a hitch! The plane departed slightly later than scheduled but we landed in Paris on time. It was a very smooth journey on the plane. Last hurdle. French border security! All good!
Actually, that was the penultimate hurdle. The last hurdle was ‘le taxi’! Birdy had booked a taxi via Booking.com and…short story, the driver didn’t greet us at arrivals but was waiting for us at departures! I know, right?! Anyway…it was sorted. We found our driver and off we went. French traffic is APPALLING! It was 10.10pm on a Thursday evening and the roads were just HEAVING…everywhere. From the moment we left the airport right until we got into the Boulogne-Billancourt area of Paris where the hotel was…nearly the whole taxi journey was a slow crawl through heaving traffic. A lot of stationary moments.
I finally could breathe a sigh of relief once we arrived at the hotel just on 11pm. I should have had Birdy pinch me! Lol. I couldn’t believe that it all actually went pretty damn smoothly and there were no big hazardous snags to have to deal with. WE WERE IN PARIS! And I was going to see the most amazing band in the whole universe the following day.
Not sure what time it was that we bedded down, possibly just after midnight? Not too late anyway. We were both knackered. I quickly realised after laying down that I forgot to get the earplugs out of the bag. I got up, tried to have a quick feel around to see if I could find them. Couldn’t remember exactly WHERE I had packed them and didn’t want to take the bag apart looking, so I just thought “Meh, I’m so tired anyway…I’ll get to sleep.” Well…upon reflection I wish I had pulled my bag apart trying to find the earplugs because … FUCK ME – the snoring! Jesus Christ! Birdy had NO TROUBLE AT ALL falling asleep. She was out like a light in minutes and then snoring like nobody’s business for the vast majority of the night. TWICE in a week I had been kept awake by birds serenading me – GIVE ME THE BLACKBIRD ANY DAY – the Yvonne Bird I wanted to chuck into the Seine!
The worst ‘sleep’. The worst! I maybe got about two hours during the short lived silent pockets in which ‘el Birdo’ woke up for a while and wisnae snoring. Truly those pockets were short lived.
We had breakfast at 9am. I have never been so thankful for coffee EVER. The hotel was great. Fab room. Great bathroom. Very affordable. A two-star place. Great reception staff, everything. Its only fault or let down was that there were no tea/coffee making facilities in the room. I was fucking GASPING by the time we got down to the dining area for breakfast. OMG! French coffee is MAGNIFIQUE!!! There was orange juice and yoghurt and a selection of bread and pastries – a small crusty bread roll, a small croissant and a pain au chocolat (which I took back to the room for later). I had two coffees.
Breakfast area of the hotel.
Back to the room after breakfast to shower and get ready for a little look about, maybe get some lunch or just find another place for yet ANOTHER coffee. We were a 15 minute walk from the hotel to the venue. We needed to cross the Seine via this footbridge (it took traffic too – but was being used primarily as a footbridge) which went over in quite the arch. It had a little area…like a decked area either side of it where you could just sit on and enjoy the spot. Couldn’t really take in much of a view if you sat down there. But it at least allowed you to take the view in without getting in the way of people wanting to cross the bridge.
Hotel views, the lovely colourful side lamp in the hotel room, and some sights heading down to the venue.
The weather was GLORIOUS! Mostly sunny and around 23 degrees Celsius. I felt wonderfully warm. We had coffee and a sweet treat from a place by La Seine Musicale called ‘Seguin Sound’ – more cafe creme for me! I had a chocolate mousse thing with it which was divine! Then I realised with having to repack stuff for the trip I had to pack two very small bags to carry with me for all my ‘essentials’ – cash, cards, phone, reading glasses, distance glasses (I cannae do bifocals), lip balm…I forgot to pack the Sharpie I had in my carry bag into the ‘essentials’ bags. SHIT!!!
Views from the footbridge.
It was 2.30pm. I had time to get back to the hotel, grab it and come back before we started queuing for the ‘VIP’ experience. I wanted to make sure we were there right on 3.30pm because I knew I’d be having to explain to someone the whole circumstances of why I was there and didn’t actually have VIP tickets…ya da ya da. Made it back to Birdy waiting for me at Seguin Sound at around 3.15pm. Phew! I was feeling a little flustered, though I tried to pace myself getting back to the hotel to get the Sharpie and get back in time.
As I thought…once at the front of the VIP queue I had the fun of trying to explain why I didn’t have VIP tickets but that I should be on a list and allowed in. The young woman at the door was very helpful and thankfully the organiser lady (who I now wish I had asked her name) for SJM Concerts knew who I was and knew the whole score and PHEW!!! Birdy and I were let in, given our merch bags and all was good. We took a seat over the way and I thought I spotted a familiar face – which I had…more of that (even if very briefly) later.
Various extras around the bridge and venue. ‘Cafe creme’ became my essential favourite bit of French to know.
A few minutes tick by and I see the organiser lady walking towards us. “Guess what, Larelle? You have a question to ask.” Whaaaa?! Again? Honestly, I wasn’t expecting that. I just put questions in, hoping against hope. Never really expecting it. When it happened in Glasgow I just couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t that lucky with Newcastle though. I’d have loved it if Jim had answered that question for me. I left asking the question for the Paris gig until the last minute. Wasn’t even sure what I was going to ask but then thought, well, I am an Aussie after all – I’ll ask JIm and Charlie what their fondest memory is of their early days touring Oz. Hoping against hope that I might get some hilarious anecdote from Jim. I remembered him years back – early days of me being in the fandom – posting on FB about the fun him and Charlie got up to at Kings Cross on their first tour. For those not so familiar with Sydney – Kings Cross had quite the notorious reputation – when I lived in Sydney, at least – full of nightclubs – also where the red light district is – the seedy side of the city – akin to Soho in London – underworld crime too. All of that. I just remember at the time of that FB post thinking “Yeah, I can well imagine you and Charlie getting up to all kinds of shifty stuff there!” I always reckon that’s why he’s wearing sunglasses and Charlie looks so wasted on that Countdown performance of Love Song. Clatty pair of stop-outs! Manky pups! Lol
So, no one was more surprised than me to be asking another question. And I was thinking “Oh, fuck! He is going to be ssoooooooooo tired of me!” GOING to be…? IS already! Has been for ages. The anxiety ramps up.
Those of us asking questions are led together as a small group. I see one reprobate I know through the fanbase online that I had yet met face to face (you know who you are – if you’re reading this!) – we said hi. He introduced me to his mate – double trouble, really. Thank you – to both of you. You both said such lovely, wonderful things to me that I wasn’t expecting at all. Please know that those words meant so very much to me. I know that one of you said that you read my stuff – so if you’re reading this – thank you! (I’m smiling – even if it is through tears.)
The soundcheck was probably the most special one. I think Jim waved at me. I think. I never know for sure. Always questioning afterwards. Probably for someone behind me, beside me, above me…around me…anywhere else! For anyone else but me. When it came to asking my question, I couldn’t even look at him. Thank god for that sheet of paper – because I could just look down and pretend I was looking at that. Bless him – he got bogged down in talking about when they can tour Oz again. It has little significance for me personally. I gave up on the dream – of my own ‘holy grail’ of seeing them down there. I have accepted that, for me, it’s not meant to be and that’s fine. I’m glad for the Oz fans out there though that he addressed it and that Birdy filmed some of it and … yeah. “What was the question again?” Lol
Do you think I’m the biggest pest in the world? Do you dread seeing my face at every damn gig? Do you just pray that I’ll go away? …
And a million other questions if those three would be lucky enough to be answered with “no!”
Charlie was on the ball. God bless you, Charlie, you lovely, lovely man.
The questions ended on a beautiful note. I feel blessed to have experienced what happened at this soundcheck. It was lovely.
During the meet and greet that followed, myself and a fellow fan got chatting to Derek Paterson – Cherisse’s drum tech. Del’s a lovely man – nuts – but wonderful. The crew are so hard working! Such amazing people.
Then I am there in front of modern music’s own Glaswegian version of Laurel and Hardy. Lol. Or perhaps it’s just Jack and Victor? Still not sure who’s who in that comparison.
He says to me “Hello, Larelle. How are you?” – How long have you got? That’s NOT what I said, because my brain doesn’t work when I am in front of him and I can barely put two words together. So for want of any kind of great, catchy repartee with him, I say “Ooookaaay…I think.” Can’t remember exactly how he asked it but he asked how I was enjoying Paris, or had I been looking about, or some such….I think I said that we didn’t arrive until late the night before. At one point, I think it was after he said hello and asked how I was and I replied with my “oookaaay, I think”, he said to me (I think he said this…) “you’re quiet”. I wish I could have said “Oh, really…you think? Jim! Why would THAT be…I wonder?!” Lol. But obviously….I HAD NO FUCKING REPLY TO THAT! I wish I could say “Uh, derrrr!” I think that is probably the most rhetorical statement he could have EVER made! “Yeah, Jim Kerr…and bears shit in the fucking woods! And the Pope’s a Catholic!” I’m quiet.
I wish more than you will ever, ever know that I was this exuberant, bubbly, chatterbox…mouth going ten to the dozen…and YOU, James Kerr, wouldn’t get a word in edgeways…but that ain’t me – certainly never seems like it ever will be now when I am around you. That’s just how it’s now destined to be, it seems. Whatever minor bits of confidence I exuded some years back that was there within me sailed off long ago. And it was you that gave that to me! That confidence. But it’s disappeared now completely – whatever vestiges of it existed in the first place.
A few snaps and…it’s all over.
I did manage to make use of that all-important Sharpie and get the question sheet I had signed by Jim and Charlie (and Birdy got her lanyard signed).
Nearly 2,500 words and we’re not even at the actual gig itself yet! This is the place where I am ‘chatty’, Mr Kerr.
I have ssoooo much more to write…but I am KNACKERED. I am going to have to do this in two parts. Part two might not happen until tomorrow. But for now I need a break and I will post this as part one.
Love, Sometimes I think it’s the most offensive, Four letter word. Want, I want love. Or is it lust? Confusing the two? Fuck, That’s not offensive. It’s visceral. I want a fuck, To give a fuck, To have a fuck, I hate myself. Hate, There’s another one. Hate’s more offensive than fuck, Of the two. Want love or lust? Which of the two? I hate giving a fuck, Not having a fuck, Two and two make four. Four letter words, Hate love, Want lust, Fuck.
More on what I shared yesterday – re: Summer Punch and taking the first steps into truly creative writing. The following was written out in my writer’s notebook on Sunday…
I have nothing to prove to anybody but myself. The learning is the most important aspect of my study. The acquisition of knowledge. The reflection of improvement through applied ‘trial and error’. Lessons learned from making mistakes. Not being scared to ‘slip up’ or ‘fail’. Knowledge is gained from trying and accepting failure – not by chasing ‘rewards’ or good grades. This I must remember and remind myself.
I have been so fearful of this creative writing unit this week that I haven’t been enjoying it. This is the reason I am doing this module! So I can learn to improve my writing skills. I think it has already started to do so and I am already putting much more thought into sentence structure and how I organise my words and express my thoughts.
To really improve my writing and become a better writer I need to step out of my comfort zone and I need to stop placing so much emphasis on grades. Of the grades I get on my assignments. Of course, I don’t want to fail my module! But if I do, I may learn more from the experience as a result.
‘The only thing we have to fear is fear itself’ (Roosevelt, 1933). I have to stop fearing failure. I need to remind myself that to fear failure is to already fail. Apply myself to the right things for the right reasons.
References: The White House (2022) Presidents: Franklin D. Roosevelt, the 32nd President of the United States. Available at: https://www.whitehouse.gov/about-the-white-house/presidents/franklin-d-roosevelt/ (Accessed: 26 April 2022).
Jim posted a photo of himself and Gordy – looking for all the world like a coupla Glesga gangstas – a great image, really, esp. as it was given more menace by Jim’s face being obscured by shade. Despite it feeling much like “pissing in the wind” these days, I left a comment. These days my comments tend to be off-the-cuff things I give very little thought to because…I don’t see much point. It’s not as if there are replies that happen these days so…you know…one has to get on with one’s life and suchlike.
Having said all of that, no one was more surprised than me to later on in the day get a ‘like’ for my comment. Well, more to the point – a ‘care’ emoji.
I thought “How very odd!” The comment I left was this…
“Would you trust these men if you met them in a dark alley?” Glesga gangstas! 😂😂😂
Now THAT is an odd reaction emoji for such a comment, don’t you think? So then I go into “over analyse” mode – because despite what I just said above, all of this shit still means more to me than I feel comfortable admitting to (esp. on here!). Now, this said emoji is called ‘care’. And so I was thinking about how that word sounds and how Jim…who “doesn’t have an accent” says his own surname…
Yes…this is the kind of over analysing crap I do! Care = Kerr??
Before I got ahead of myself I went and checked this comment reaction out. Was it actually left by the official SM FB page? Well, it seemed to. I’m sure I clicked on it and double checked that it actually went to the band page – ie: that it wasn’t some bogus duplicate account and I was pinning so much on something so … stupid.
I even saved the bloody notification I got because at the end of it, this is still all what it means to me!
But this is where it then has me second-guessing. Later last night, I went back to the post and then I could still see the reaction emoji but it was no longer showing as left by the SM page…
So now I am thinking that, despite my checking, I was taken in by some bogus duplicate account and all my “Care – Kerr” pondering and hopefulness was just me clutching at ever increasing intangible and desperate straws!
Ah, well. There we go. This is a rather sad, ridiculous and pointless post, eh?
And to top it all off, I couldn’t go queuing for 14 hours to get myself a copy of the 5×5 Live vinyl – so I am feeling particularly sorry for myself today.
At least I have Creative Writing study to look forward to again today…yay! 😒☹️ (So far, it is feeling like everything I was dreading. Nothing has changed for me AT ALL about how I would feel when tasked with “writing a story” at school to 40 years down the track…)
It’s his birthday tomorrow. He would have been turning 61. I now haven’t seen him for 15 years and I haven’t spoken to him in 8 years. I’d like to think he’d be saying “about fucking time!” with me studying at uni.
Happy Birthday for tomorrow bro. The world has always been less of everything without you in it. 😔❤️
UPDATE: In this week of creative writing, we being asked to keep a Writer’s notebook and carry it around for the next few days and to jot things down. I added this to it just a few moments ago…
I haven’t shared very much about the tour here in all honesty. Unlike with previous tours where I felt very much a part of things most of the time, with the Acoustic Tour and then – with a sticky moment in between – the Walk Between Worlds tour, I was in “the heart of the crowd”. Even to a lesser extent I felt very much a part of things during the Big Music Tour – even though I only went to two gigs in 2015 – it was the early days of my fandom and my enthusiasm was…infectious…and feeding my own hunger for more.
This blog started in 2015…starting its life on Tumblr and then moving here to be a fully fledged website in its own right, carrying the “Priptona Weird” URL. Rather cringingly it started as pretty much a visual Jim Kerr “drool wall”, thinly veiled as a “Simple Minds” blog.
After a time I wanted it more and more to move into more “serious” territory. Still have some FUN, of course – I have never been trying to compete with Simon’s Dream Giver Redux site, nor did I ever want to! I was a mere cub in no way equipped to compete with a roaring lion and I knew that. I always wanted to have my blog have SOME of me in it. Present it as MY Simple Minds world.
I had been happy with where I had taken it and where it was going in recent years. Diversifying somewhat to have more generalised musical input – gig reviews, new album release reviews, interviews – all of that side of things makes me “proud” (be careful using that word, kiddo!) – hmmm, okay…”gratified” (there we go, that’s better!) with the state the blog was in during 2020 and 2021 and the couple of years preceding the pandemic. The work I put into the Minds Music Monday posts celebrating the 40th Anniversary of Sons And Fascination/Sister Feelings Call feels like the pinnacle of it all. Little did I know that as I was putting all of that together, Graham Thomson was writing Themes For Great Cities. I felt like all my work was a precursor to his amazing book.
This new year promised to be so great. The book I just mentioned was due for release in January and I felt I had scored myself a bit of a coup for this blog in being able to get hold of a copy of the book before its release date and review it here. I was delighted to also be given the opportunity to have a couple of copies of it to give away.
The release of Act Of Love was also a fantastic thing to happen early on this year.
I was counting down to Paris, the first gig of the recommencing of the tour – for me personally. In actual fact I think the tour WAS meant to recommence where it had stopped – in Copenhagen – but one last minute reschedule meant that Paris would not be until May and the new start of the tour with my personal run of gigs would be in Aberdeen.
Over the past six months, particularly within the past three months – more than ever before – I have felt on the outer. Being a “social butterfly” never really comes comfortably to me. I have spent many years sheltered and comfortable in my own company. Perhaps it is part of continued undiagnosed neurodiversity? Even when I do engage in social situations, I have ALWAYS felt inept. These recent weeks have felt no different. In fact, they have only compounded my feelings of awkwardness and ineptitude even further.
My retreat is here. This blog. Even within the online social network these days – a place I felt initially much safer in “socialising” in, I once again feel on the outer fringes. I’m not really having any involvement with any of the Simple Minds group pages. Just the odd thing that I may feel particularly vocal about or eager to express – like yesterday with sharing the review of Sarah’s album in Mojo magazine on SMOG. These days my interaction is an exception to the rule.
The work I did for this blog last year for the Sons/Sister 40th Anniversary I wanted to emulate for New Gold Dream. I was looking forward to that. But now it’s April and if I want to do something I know I should be starting NOW with the release of Promised You A Miracle as the first single release for the album. Minds Music Monday was put on hiatus for the tour – but frankly since I started my study, MMM has been neglected by and large.
The tour has been going since March 31st, and the band just played their first mainland European gig last night at the Ziggodome in Amsterdam. They continue with the arena leg of the tour through Europe until near the end of May. Paris is in 16 days time and I am frightened to fuck about it. I don’t travel well internationally at the best of times but just all the extra logistics involved in what really is such a short journey is positively freaking me out. I have so few gigs left to enjoy though I really don’t want to miss it. And…I have a meet and greet AGAIN. And one final chance of a NICE photo with Jim and Charlie. Don’t get me wrong…I love that one from Aberdeen. It has a personal significance to it for me that I really love – I just wish that Jim and Charlie had been framed in it better and not look like they are suffering from epic cases of jaundice! Lol. And I am ssoooo bummed that they lost the Newcastle photos and I couldn’t take advantage of going to another UK gig as compensation. So…a lot hinges on Paris.
Some action shots of Jim I took in Newcastle that I hadn’t yet shared.
As I said at the beginning of this post, I haven’t shared much of any of this tour so far here on this blog. I haven’t even shared all of my own photos from Newcastle as yet (rectified above). You know…the web is AWASH with stuff – especially on the SM group pages on Facebook. There’s plenty to see there. I feel little need in sharing any of it here. Which in turn is starting to make this blog feel…surplus to requirements. A combination of my continued concentrated attention to my studies as well as just feeling less and less part of it all.
So where does this blog go? It’s called “Priptona’s Simple Minds Space” after all! It’s not “Larelle Read” – my own actual personal blog has lain abandoned for YEARS – and it is rightfully the place I should be writing about my academic endeavours on but I guess I started talking about my academic pursuits here as a way of highlighting why things might be a bit “Minds light” on the blog at the moment.
Truly, I know the only person who cares about this blog is me…and even I’m worried that the enthusiasm is dying. At least for it to be the kind of thing it had been for the past, say, four years. A good blend of lots of Simple Minds stuff, with broader music based features, some fantastic posts (if I can blow my own trumpet for one nanosecond) and pretty darn good interviews – for a rank amatuer.
Again, where do we go from here? I don’t know. I really do hope I’m just feeling a dose of PGD (Post Gig Depression) and things will pick up again. Perhaps after Paris?
We’ll see. Until then, thanks for listening and reading and continuing to visit this old mishmash of crap that is “Priptona’s Blog”.
