In Search of Gabriela Sabatini: July 2006

Finish on a song...

When you're back in your old neighborhood
The cigarettes taste so good
But you're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood

There's something there that you can't find
Honest when you're tellin' a lie
You hurt her but you don't know why
You love her but you don't know why

Short on long term goals
There's a party there that we oughta go to
Do you still love rock and roll?
Do you still love rock and roll?

It's only a quarter to three
Reflecting off your C.D.
You're looking at a picture of me
You're staring at a picture of me

Take the guitar player for a ride
He ain't never been satisfied
He thinks he owes some kind of debt
Be years before he gets over it

There's a fortune inside your head
All you touch turns to lead
You think you might just crawl back in bed
The fortune inside your head

You know you're just a mama's boy
Positively unemployed
So misunderstood
So misunderstood

I know you've got a God shaped hole
Leanin' out you're all full of soul

So misunderstood

I'd like to thank you all for nothin'

I'd like to thank you all for nothin' at all

Wilco - Misunderstood

From the album, Being There.

Next Year In Jerusalem

... alrighty.

I'm supposed to be doing something else right now but there you go.

Apologies to one and all that it has taken me so long to finish up the blog but again that's kinda the way things go.

I've been back in Ireland for just about six weeks now, I'm none the wiser I'm afraid about a whole heap of things and the celebrated absorbed zen philosophy, the perspective that life on the road is supposed to endow you with hasn't really been delivering as of yet.

Maybe it's jetlagged.

What happens now???

On a basic level, this blog is closed for the time being. I may open up a new one, if (or rather when) I go travelling again and perhaps I'll start adding adventures and observations afresh and anew here.

As for the more complicated stuff...

Well, that's instructive in itself.

When you're travelling, the voyage becomes the end in itself. The constant velocity pushing you on... Towards something...

Now I don't have that impetus anymore or the answers and maybe no reference point for myself.

But maybe.

Next year.

In Jerusalem.

I'll find one.