Sometimes...if it is the right time; if it is too soon, they don't. Obviously. Easier said than, er, well, you know what I, er...
I wonder if the great Gang of Four realised this application when they penned the title lyric of this post. It seems to ironize the entire song, the entire surface meaning of an otherwise easily comprehendable track. What's the point?
I wonder why I am hinting at my sexual failings over the internet. It is that truly odd mixture, that bizarre conflation of the intimate and the professional that one gets with the internet generally and email and blogging generally. Why do we find this space which is at once private and at once so utterly, tantalisingly, public? It is the day by day equivalent of the party you used to go to where you'd occasionally find someone who didn't even know your name, or who couldn't even see you, but was still interested in you, and the feeling, if it was that, was mutual.
Oh, well, it is the way it is. My arms ache, my tummy aches, all the bits of my body with no muscles ache, I am weak and stupid and in pain.
Exercise kills.
Kids - just say no to the gym!! Have a pie instead!
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2 comments:
Mr. Drummer I like you blog.
It makes me laugh. And not at you. But with you in a whimsical "this guy lives a real life" kind of way.
Your gym posts have particularly resonated with me. Before I turned 30 I pumped the iron, thumped on the treadmill and after much pain, effort and hard work made myself lean and mean.
Cut to two years later and I'm now 32 and a couch potato! Bugger. Make it 3 years later and now 33 and a couch potato with encroaching senility.
Thanks, Mr Pimpernel. I have never approached the lean and mean stage, largely, I suspect owing to my interest in Stella Artois. But still I give myself pain.
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