Marking time…

Sometimes I feel so left out of my life. Oh, I know, ‘tempus fugit’ and all that, but sometimes when you have been ‘outed’ from something that was important to you, and for no fault of your own, and then you hear on the wire that, despite it stopping for you, it goes on for all the others - well it’s almost as if you never existed.

But then of course you have moved on too, and where you have moved on to is of your own making, and you are happy and you wouldn’t want it any other way, well you makes your bed, and what is the point of dwelling on the past, and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie, and well, it’s easier this way… but even so.

Superman could have handled this from his Fortress of Solitude deep in the ice. Superman would have sent out one of his robotic doubles, splitting himself infinitely for every occasion.

But I’m no Superman, never have been.

Of course in a parallel world I did go to the ball, drank champagne and kissed the cheeks of many a fair damsel, laughing and being charming - if not a prince, then at least a frog and there.

‘Rivet, rivet.’

In that parallel world I party in my froggy-footed drainpipes and Edwardian collared suit, all a’quiffed and laughing, nothing but a hound dog having such a good time.

Yeah, life sucks when you’re this cool.

A skeleton at the feast.
Flim Flam.
A shadow.
Just a mist.
Not really there at all.
A thing from the past.
Hardly remembered.
Cryin’ all the time.
And I ain’t ever caught a rabbit…

The rest? Well you know the rest.

Look, that’s me behind the curtains.

Boo!

Blow me out as you blow out the candles.

Boo!