Friday, August 27, 2010

1989


I love it when the past frisbees into the present and zoinks your flaccid diaphragm with its glide-on-air spin.

This, distinct from all ground sucked from beneath your would-be footprints.

Which is, as I recall, how it was prior to the moment I heard this song.

“What song? What are you talking about?”

Sssssh, dialogetically untagged impatient complainer: I’ll get to that in a moment. And for goodness’ sake, take those ludicrous pantalons off. Somebody’s been at an old pair of chinos with scissors, intent on making you look a mug.

Briefly: I was 26 and almost a half, run ragged round a dim sargasso like a merman plucked of all his scales by some anti-crustacean tweezer fiend mistaking me for a cuttlefish. That’s right: run ragged like a merman.

And, yes, potentially irritated repeat phrase reader: by some anti-crustacean tweezer fiend mistaking me for a cuttlefish.

So now you’re thinking, but cuttlefish have no scales to pluck, at tweezerpoint of anti-crustacean hordes, or any other scale removing species/device.

“And the song! Don’t forget the song!”

Like I said, it’s coming. But I need to resolve the cuttlefish thing first.

Said undersea denizen was dressed up, for a Finding Nemo themed birthday party.

So: pretend scale tutu wrapped over budgerigar beak sharpening husk to-be. When you’ve a needle and thread, any act of transformation is possible.

“Thanks. Very much. For that explanation, neither requested nor needed. You promised music, flaccid diaphragms.”

Indeed I did, but I should point out that there were no cuttlefish in Finding Nemo — apart from the odd flagellate-on part. And certainly no mermaids. Which only shows how easy it is to be doubly wrong if you’re an anti-crustacean tweezer fiend.

“Very good — but I’m becoming impatient. 1989?”

Of course. Because this is a diary post, after all.

Where the past frisbees into the present and zoinks your flaccid diaphragm with its glide-on-air spin. Only my diaphragm wasn’t flaccid then, it was knotted.

And this song desheepshankulated my errant guts.

21 years on, it’s still about the future...


2 comments:

Old Kitty said...

Oh but the sun is shining now and it is the bank holiday and it is always, always, always miserable during bank holidays!

And although there were rainbow fish in Finding Nemo I think they could have done with a cuttlefish or three. Or even a witch's purse.

Take care
x

Whirlochre said...

Old Kitty
When I'm old and capable of doing nothing but lying down, I'll crave the flibbulatory touch of those azure blue cartoon anemone fronds...