The Lung Brothers

Hanging out at the extreme end of the long tail ...

Friday, August 24, 2007

Up Yours James Blunt

I remember my first day in Barcelona as if it was yesterday.

I had come over after suffering an unpleasant break-up with my girlfriend and had sworn off women forever (as you do). But strolling down the Ramblas on that first sunny afternoon something happened that made my misogynistic streak evaporate like a wisp of smoke.

I was innocently foraging around for a seedy bar in which to get drunk and feel sorry for myself when I looked up and beheld a goddess-like apparition strolling towards me. A moment that knocked the wind clean out of me. There she was, breezing through the thronging masses like a Latin angel. Perhaps it was my imagination but it did seem like the crowd parted before her as threads of gossamer might part before a sweet summer breeze. As if they knew that something so perfect, so delicate should never be accidentally glanced lest it disappear. But like I say, that might have been just my imagination...

And perfect she was. The olive skin, the silky sheen of her straight black hair her eyes so wide and so dark that you could have fallen into them and slumbered forever. I remember the burgundy mini-dress she wore and how she walked with such coquettish confidence. It was as if she knew the effect she was having on the mere mortals surrounding her but refused to acknowledge it. Twenty-three perhaps twenty-four, although poise and style gave her a more mature and worldly air.

She was chatting with friends and through the background bustle of the thoroughfare I could catch snippets of her voice. Rich it was, like Cognac but with the slightest sexy rasp around the edges. A voice that could seduce you with a word, cut you with a quip but could sing lullabies to a baby if the need arose. It felt like somebody was pouring warm honey into my ears.

These sensations flashed through my soul all in a matter of seconds and now we were passing each other. In the periphery of my perception, the whole street seemed to stand still and hold its breath in anticipation of this moment. We locked eyes, she held the gaze for longer than I expected and then moved on. Did I detect the faintest suggestion of a smile? Or are the opaque mists of this old man's memory playing cruel tricks?

I wanted to rush to her. I wanted to tell her that this moment was a once-in-a-lifetime glimpse of Nirvana. That we should be together, that we must be together, that to do otherwise would be spitting in the face of destiny. I wanted to grasp the moment and not let this precious jewel slip through my fingers.

But alas I tarried too long and she was gone.

How can I live with my self now?, I thought, as I continued down the picturesque promenade. Uncertainty and hesitation had once again cost me the prize, but this time the prize was a soul mate - perhaps the soul mate because I couldn't imagine that this small planet could possibly be host to another sample of such feminine divinity. How will I go on knowing that I squandered this chance to meet such a unique, such a stunning, such a sensual woma.........

..........Oooooh look, there's another one.

I think I met the first chick at a party a few months later.
Can't be sure though.
She'd put on a few pounds.


Anonymous sheepworrier said...

yup, them spanish types have that effect on everyone. god bless 'em.

1:26 pm  

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