Tour’s over, then. Nobody has a David Gilmour concert to look forward to. There are no freshly printed tickets to keep safe in their original envelope and occasionally check, lovingly stroke, and perhaps even sniff when no-one’s looking (if you like that sort of thing; not me, obviously). Back at work? Feeling deflated? This
20-original-album-covers-that-are-actually-works-of-art piece was just hanging around on Twitter earlier, practically asking to be embedded and tagged ‘Random Nonsense’, as so many posts were back when we didn’t have a tour to discuss, so I thought it might help to temporarily take your mind off your sorrow.
Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to use that word – sorrow. Didn’t mean to remind you of one of the best songs on the tour and how that tour has finished. What I meant was, I know you’re feeling blue and… No, that won’t do either. Mustn’t use words from lyrics or titles of songs performed on this tour that’s now over.
I can’t help it. I share your pain. You’re feeling burned and broken (so sorry), numb in fact, as though those hopes, once so high (forgive me), have now come crashing down and you just want to scream at all those unsympathetic, nagging work colleagues, spouses and children who cannot understand why you don’t want to hear about their boring day or look ahead with excitement to the next holiday or Christmas or something equally stupid and pointless: What do you want from me?
But it’s OK. You’re just stuck in the doldrums (yes, some of us hoped for ‘Lost for Words’ and ‘Poles Apart’, thank you very much). It’s hell, I know. They were great gigs and how we all wished we were there.
Just take this sad face and be done with it. 🙁
And here’s the bloody tweet that started all of this.
— NME (@NME) October 5, 2016
Of course, you’re free to hate all of them. I can’t say I particularly like any of them right now, nor would I want any of these so-called “works of art” hanging on my wall (gosh, I’m so terribly sorry). Even Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band reminds me of Sir Peter Blake’s mural featuring the faces of those who have performed at the Royal Albert Hall down the years. Remember it? Say you do. There was a quiz. (That’s the historic and iconic Royal Albert Hall. God, how I’m going to miss writing that.)
Oh well. We’ll get over it. You mark my words, we’ll all be feeling better one of the these days, you’ll see.
If you’d rather play about with words, as I have here, I can’t say I blame you. Be my guest. Call it therapy.
I do of course realise that, in capitals, the title of this post, that wonderfully short, over-used American expression – “Meh” – to lazily convey in as few letters as possible just how little enthusiasm you have for something, looks remarkably similar to “RAH” if you glance at it quickly. I should apologise for that, too.
Oh, and before anyone asks: I don’t know anything about any DVD from any time or place. (What’s a DVD?)