Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Breaking Up With Kate Bush

Dear Kate

As I’m sure you know, having sex with an ex is always a bad idea.

Too much baggage whizzing about. It’s like a demented British Airways carousel after a horribly long flight with cheap chardonnay and way too much turbulence.

It’s not so much One-More-For-The-Road as You-Made-A-Mistake-Breaking-Up-With-Me-Look-Nah-Nah-What-A-Good-Root-I-Am.

There’s all the recriminations.
The spiteful accusations.
The lame Breakup Lines to try and ease the parting.

It’s not passionate, it’s petty.

I’ve realised that a similar thing occurs when you revisit the music of your past.
That’s Past with a capital P.

Specifically, the music that you played when you were with an ex.

It’s been so many years since you and I were pals Kate.

How I loved your whimsical lyrics (“You’re like my yo-yo…” how craaazy is that?) and creepy whispering melodies, your mane of dark hair and your wild, wild I’m a bit-mad-you-know-eyes.

But those days of flouncy white frocks and one armed swaying and of course the high pitched eeriness of all your beautiful not-of-this-world songs are long gone.

As are the associated men. And that’s a Very Good Thing.

This weekend I was lingering in a music shop and I saw your cd The Whole Story. It had Wuthering Heights and Hounds of Love and all manner of reedy wierdy high pitched creepy whispery hits. I was looking for a cd to play in the car while I drove up north for a weekend away and I suddenly thought what a lovely idea it would be to revisit Kate.

I could one handed sway as I pootled up the Pacific Highway.
I could flip my hair and roll my eyes in a madcap Kate-ish fashion.
I could wear cheesecloth, or at least a blouse that flounced as well as allowing easy access for breast feeding.

And I could sing along of course because all those words were etched indelibly in my 19 year old brain.

And so it came to be. And I sang along and so did my baby and the high notes were met and lo surpassed, although not by me. And the car was fall of floaty, swaying, cheese clothy loveliness.

For about ten minutes.

And then the memories came flooding back.

It was creepy and not in the way you intended.

It was grubby. It was petty. There was a nasty taste in my mouth that I’d prefer not to identify but if I was going to be brutally honest I’d say was regret. Creepy whispery floaty regret.

And that’s why, I’m afraid, it’s over. No really.

It was beautiful while it lasted but I’d rather it stayed a wonderful memory. We've both gone too far down our respective roads, me, married with a baby and you, still floaty and whispery but now doing craazy songs about your washing machine.

We’d spoil it if we tried to start up again.

But don’t blame yourself.

It’s not you, it’s me.

(No Longer Yours)

Ova Girl


Anonymous said...

Now this NEVER happens with Heaven 17.


Lut C. said...

LOL - her washing machine!

Dell. said...

Hi Ova Girl..
First time reading your blog and am horrified by your doctor's casual attitude to your breat lumps...
For christ sake, get another opinion..
Get a mammogram or a biopsy but do NOT ignore them.
I'm not a scare merchant but my cousin's wife was told the exact same thing with the same circumstances. It was breast cancer and the doctor was sooooo bloody sorry when she died of it that she said she would dedicate her working life to saving lives!! Well.. what the f was she supposed to be doing anyway???
I'm usually not so passionate but this is your life..
Please get another doctor to look at you. I'll be back to check!!!1 LOL
Best regards,

Dell. said...

That was "breast" lumps...

Ova Girl said...

Hi Dell. thankyou for your posts and encouragement to get a 2nd opinion. I thought I better look thru my post again to see if I was ambiguous about my doctor's response. What I neglected to say was that I actually had an ultrasound and it was on the results of that she told me the lump(s) were cysts. I think I wrote it a bit fast and so when I said "checked out" I was meaning that I had seen her and then she had referred me on to the ultrasound and then rang me when she got the results. I am still monitoring them though and watching the size.
I am very sorry to read of your cousin's wife. That is tragic and horrible.


Drew said...

I wrote a similar letter to The Prodigy...somehow songs the likes of `Smack my bitch up' and `Climbatize' don't quite gel anymore.

Anonymous said...

The Cure... I can't handle them anymore just because of the memories invoked. I totally get this post on many levels.

Ova Girl said...

Oh spanglish YES, the cure for me as well and in fact I would have to also write identical letters to The Clash, Depeche Mode, and that guy who sings 'Avalon' and 'Let's stick together...'.

Mandy said...

Ha! I also identify Kate Bush with weird/unpleasant memories from my college days, which is unfortunate because it is sort of interesting music. I remember a friend of mine coming to my dorm room after taking acid, panicked and convinced Kate Bush was speaking directly to her through her stereo speakers...