jack_babalon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jack_babalon) wrote2009-12-22 03:28 am
jack_babalon) wrote2009-12-22 03:28 am
Entry tags:
Carol of the Wild
"Now the winter comes down
I can't stand the chill
That comes to the streets around Christmas time
And I'm buggered to damnation
And I haven't got a penny
To wander the dark streets of London"
Got the Pogues Dark Streets of London stuck in my head of late, despite my being conspicuously nowhere near just 'right of Iceland'. It started up on the way to work last Friday, the melody suddenly carving itself into a loop across the brain out of a stray memory. I like to think of it as a musical inocculation shot of sorts. Only an hour before hand I had caught a wicked variation of the Baby, it's cold out ear infection off the MARTA intercoms (cycling a steady broadcast stream of holiday themed muzak across the train platforms). It could've been much worse granted. I've seen men, strong men at that, gouge their ears with the tips of umbrellas in a vain attempt to silence the millionth chorus of White Christmas from running rampant through their skulls. Poor bastards never stood a chance... they were just born suceptible to music-viruses. Luckily I now have a fresh shot of Celtic Pub-Punk to cleanse the Christmas memes from my nervous system. A carol of the Wild if you will for those long, nocturnal walks in the cold.
I can't stand the chill
That comes to the streets around Christmas time
And I'm buggered to damnation
And I haven't got a penny
To wander the dark streets of London"
Got the Pogues Dark Streets of London stuck in my head of late, despite my being conspicuously nowhere near just 'right of Iceland'. It started up on the way to work last Friday, the melody suddenly carving itself into a loop across the brain out of a stray memory. I like to think of it as a musical inocculation shot of sorts. Only an hour before hand I had caught a wicked variation of the Baby, it's cold out ear infection off the MARTA intercoms (cycling a steady broadcast stream of holiday themed muzak across the train platforms). It could've been much worse granted. I've seen men, strong men at that, gouge their ears with the tips of umbrellas in a vain attempt to silence the millionth chorus of White Christmas from running rampant through their skulls. Poor bastards never stood a chance... they were just born suceptible to music-viruses. Luckily I now have a fresh shot of Celtic Pub-Punk to cleanse the Christmas memes from my nervous system. A carol of the Wild if you will for those long, nocturnal walks in the cold.