Concentration

I trod on my glasses this morning and broke them: but that's why God invented sellotape, isn't it!
They are now returned to fully-functional form with the minor drawback that they can't be folded up any more, but who cares about that?
After a pathetic swim, I came home and started re-recording guitars (third time).
I suddenly got absorbed in one song, I Love You Still, Stuart Morgan.
I do still love him- he was my tutor at art college and he was a scamp, writing little love letters on the end of the pretty boys' essays.
He was very sweet to me, so I want to make his track beautiful.
Some of the guitars... was it that they sounded organic, or did they simply sound crap? My fingers are numb. I lost a whole guitar overdub and couldn't remember what I'd played and had to invent it again. Then I started mixing parts of it and it started to sound good, and then I thought, again, are those guitars organic or simply crap?
That's the point at which, symbolised also by the hopeless entanglement of the headphone cable in my guitar strap, I have to stop for the day.
Here are the lyrics. Maybe they don't mean anything to anyone but myself and Stuart, and possibly Roger the terrifying sculpture student with a beard that used to make Stuart tremble with fear.

Shoplifting books by the ton
Piling them up in his room
We sat on the toppling towers
He kept us amused for hours.
Loving a laddie or two
Got him in trouble, it's true
Taking us all by surprise
Wooed by his sparkling eyes.

Danse macabre, danse macabre.

Darkness came in with a cloak
Ten thousand books up in smoke
But holding my baby he smiled
Joyful to see my child.

Danse macabre, danse macabre.

Falling like spent autumn leaves
Everyone brought to their knees
Keeping a positive smile
Life in a different style;
Once your romantic conceit
Now it consumes the sweet
Stolen away from your friends...

Everything has to end.

So that's what a cooker's for.