26 Dollars

I was twenty three in 1990, (shiiit), and two albums lulled me to sleep nightly as I pined over lost love Wendy.
Frank Sintara's Saloon Songs and Nico's Chelsea Girls. Although very different in so many ways, they both gave me what I needed in the dark early hours, after I manically wrote in my diary things teenage and no doubt embarrassing now.
Hell, what was I doing writing diaries, and going to work on a building site the next day? Picture the scene, by the mixer. .
It was like "oi harv, see the match last night?"
"nah, I just listened to Sinatra and wrote in me diary of unrequited love"
"eh? Yah big fookin' poof!"

Anyway, I digress. I've just finished Reading James Young's The Last Bohemian again. A funny & tragic story of Nico's final years, drug addled and on the skids. And I've got out all my old Nico records and CDs, (most are unlistenable gothic pap pretending to be 'art', but Chelsea Girls is still glorious). It could be the fourth or fifth time I've read that book. It cuts through so much 'pop' bullshit in an honest and witty way. Much like Cope's Head On. Should read that again soon really. .

Never got to see Nico play. I'd have loved to see her sing one of the Chelsea Girls songs, or better, I'll Be Your Mirror. But I at least got to see the Chelsea Hotel in the flesh over in the States a few years back.
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Lovely moon tonight. Have put the round bistro table in the window so I can see the Sun. Julie can round Saturday and we rehearsed and then eat lemon chicken and drunk wine listened to music with the windows wide open and the gentle breeze flickering the candles after sunset and sod the neighbours if it's too loud.

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Finally got to see Kill Bill (the first one) the other night. Love the Tarrantino

stuff but mixed reviews stopped me from seeing this at the pictures. Anyway, I thought it was superb.

Films that create their own Universe don't always work for me. Fight Club didn't, but Hairspray (the original) did.

I've got the second to watch soon.