vicus reveals his new hobby: archeology

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All the old paintings on the tombs
They do the sand dance don't you know
If they move too quick (oh whey oh)
They're falling down like a domino
All the bazaar men by the Nile
They got the money on a bet Gold crocodiles (oh whey oh)
They snap their teeth on your cigarette
Foreign types with the hookah pipes say
Ay oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh
Walk like an Egyptian
Blonde waitresses take their trays
They spin around and they cross the floor
They've got the moves (oh whey oh)
You drop your drink then they bring you more
All the school kids so sick of books
They like the punk and the metal band
When the buzzer rings (oh whey oh)
They're walking like an Egyptian
All the kids in the marketplace say
"Ay oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh"
Walk like an Egyptian
Slide your feet up the street bend your back
Shift your arm then you pull it back
Life is hard you know (oh whey oh)
So strike a pose on a Cadillac
If you want to find all the cops
They're hanging out in the donut shop
They sing and dance (oh whey oh)
Spin the clubs cruise down the block
All the Japanese with their yen
The party boys call the Kremlin
And the Chinese know (oh whey oh)
They walk the line like Egyptian
All the cops in the donut shop say
"Ay oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh"
Walk like an Egyptian
Walk like an Egyptian
.

THE BANGLES

. .

(or dance like one, chez vicus)
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POST SCRIPT a request from the witchy one. . .
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read this
.

and the following translation will make sense
(I'm good with hieroglyphics, me):
.

Put your head against my life
What do you hear
A million words just trying to make
The love song of the year
Close your eyes, but don't forget
What you have heard
A man who's trying to say three words
The words that make me scared
A million love songs later
And here I am trying to tell you that I care
A million love songs later
And here I am
Looking to the future now
This is what I see
A million chances pass me by
A million chances to hold you
Take me back, take me back
To where I used to be
To hide away from all my truth
Through the light I see
A million love songs later
And here I am trying to tell you that I care
A million love songs later
And here I am
.

or, more simply put:
.

time goes by

sun dismantling; Sunday rest; stopping clocks

one flies off with the cuckoos
.

so last week, two days before the move, when I'd packed up and the POVS were with their father until such a time as I'd unpacked at the new abode and they could move back in to their weekday residence, I swallowed all my sleeping tablets; before I took them and whilst I took them and before they had had any effect, I was the calmest I had been for a very long time; it was a wonderful feeling; I went to bed and let go very very gently; altho I didn't expect to wake up, when I did I felt everso slightly dopey and spent most of that day in bed asleep. . .

that evening, the day before the move, feeling equally calm, I swallowed all my remaining anti-depressants and a packet of extra-strong neurofen. . . XCH came around, for some reason, totally unexpectedly and unannouced, a while later - something to do with the move I think - he must have seen I wasn't very well and he insisted I went back to his for the evening and that I hug and cuddle the POVS on the sofa; I didn't expect to wake up the next morning and when I did felt extremely sick and had the worst headache I have ever had. . .

g*d knows what they put in these tablets, but methinks in restrospect that the vast amount of their bulk is made up of some kind of placebo (the Head Doctor had admitted as much to me when he signed me off a month or so ago, as he wrote out my prescription)

that evening, despite feeling like death warmed up and being totally shattered from the packing/move/un-packing, I went to the opera with Patrick and almost fell asleep a number of times. . . it was remarkable that I didn't throw up, actually, I felt so dreadful; the strangest thing about the evening came at the end of the night, when I gave the cab driver instructions for how to return me to the new abode

where I shall now be for the duration
.

time, it's a strange thing

this week I've had withdrawal symptoms from not taking any medication, and have continued to feel as sick as a dog, altho the headache has worn off as the week's progressed and now I just feel slightly naseous

about three quarters of an hour ago I put some batteries into a cuckoo clock (a little like this, white, altho mine has no pink touches and two more cuckoos) that I bought about two and a half years ago and have never even taken out of the box - the machine cuckooed twelve cuckoos at me shortly afterwards and a little bird popped in and out as the doors to its perch opened and closed; with each "cuckoo" there is a faint "echo cuckoo", it sounds just like the cuckoos from my childhood in the countryside; the clock and the cuckoo and the echo will do that now, until the batteries run out or the internal mechanics break down

I think my internal mechanics have broken and it feels as if my batteries are flat and have been for a while now
.

I just want time to finish

.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum, Bring out the coffee, let the mourning begin. Let aeroplanes circle moaning above, Scribbling on the sky the message He Was Love, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.
.
wat WHA

.

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POST SCRIPT: then I read the following on mel's dream. . .

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Is it unrealistic to look at the bright side, to remain generally positive, and to expect the best in life? No, because reality itself is neutral, and what you get from it depends upon how you view it and what you make of it. The raw forces, circumstances and events are, for the most part, out of your control. Yet you can completely control the way you perceive, respond, adapt and yes, even prosper under their influence. The control you exercise over your own perceptions, thoughts and actions will make all the difference in your life. Reality is what it is, and your own relationship to that reality is precisely whatever you choose for it to be.