Three Blind Mice

Music is everything and nothing. It is useless and no limit can be set on its use. Music takes me to places of illimitable sensual and insensate joy, accessing points of ecstasy that no angelic lover could ever locate, or plunging me into gibbering weeping hells of pain that no torturer could ever devise. Music makes me write this sort of maundering adolescent nonsense without embarrassment. Music is in fact the dog’s bollocks. Nothing else comes close. AND I CAN’T FUCKING DO IT I can’t so much as hum ‘Three Blind Mice’ without going off key. I can’t stick to the rhythm of ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ without speeding up. I can’t fucking do it. Bollocks to Salieri and his precious, petulant whining. Maybe it is worse to be able to make music just a bit, but not as well as you would like to. I d love to find out. But I can’t fucking do it at all. To see friends gathering round a piano and singing ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’, ‘Anything Goes’, ‘Yellow Submarine’, ‘Summertime’, ‘Der Erlkonig’, ‘She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain’, ‘Edelweiss’, ‘Non Piu Andrai’ – it doesn’t fucking matter what bloody song it is… I CAN’T FUCKING JOIN IN I have to mime at parties when everyone sings Happy Birthday… mime or mumble and rumble and grow and grunt so deep that only moles, manta rays and mushrooms can hear me ...»