Typical of nearing birthdays, I find myself looking back, looking in and looking forward.
You may not believe this, but there is a song out there composed in my name. Actually, there may even still be a tape with the recording in one of my old bedroom drawers. It was a long time ago. I was 20, a young and promising physics student, with too many ideas and not much common sense. Afternoons spent watching French films in dingy indie cinemas, endless cigarettes and cheap red wine, music to make your ears bleed... Not much has changed. Except the price of the wine. And the quality of cinema seats. But the sturm und drang are still here. On the other hand, the guy who wrote the song is now a well-adjusted father of two, who has packed away the guitar for good.
As Lawrence Durrell said, 'There are only three things to be done with a woman. You can love her, suffer for her, or turn her into literature.' I have loved, I have suffered, I have written. Now it may be time to shut up.
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