Does anyone know where a thread is?

Cowshed

Underclass
Hi all,

I've just moved house and been internet-less for a few weeks and I remember reading a great thread where a few people made stories taken from different lyrics. Does anyone know where this thread is? I've gone through pretty much all of this board and can't find it!

Thanks!
 

Girlfriend

Purrfect Member
Hello there!

I always have a good look through old threads, but that one doesn't ring any bells with me.
I think if all else fails, cowshed, you could start your own up!
Did you dream it up maybe?! :D
Good luck with the hunting!
 

Wild Oscar

Born-again Atheist
Re: Morrissey/Smiths story game?

Don't know if this is what you are looking for...

Can't recall if the thread title above was the original one or one I used when I saved this particular contribution - the best of the bunch as I remember.

Worm was the contributor, so s/he may be a better signpost. The other postings went a bit off the idea of the thread, but this is a belter.

Re: Morrissey/Smiths Story Game

I am the son and heir of nothing in particular. Irish blood, English heart. Raised on Prisoner's Aid on the high-rise estates. Captain of games, solid-framed, head in the clouds. I was a good kid, with a preference for making things worse-- in a belted coat I secretly knew I hadn't a clue. I was faceless, I was fawning, a child from those ugly new houses. Call me morbid, call me pale, a jumped-up pantry boy who never knew his place. A twisted child on a swing...stop me if you think you've heard this one before. Something went wrong, and I know I'm not to blame!

Women. Emotional air-raids exhausted my heart. I lost my faith in womanhood. Ordinary girls, happy knowing nothing! Spineless bastards all. They said, "Would you like to marry me? And if you like you can buy the ring". An engagement ring doesn't mean a thing to a mind consumed by brass (money). Love is natural and real but most people keep their brains between their legs. (Me without clothes? I'm packed-- but you know, I keep mine hidden.) No, no, no, no, no, no. Love is just a miserable lie. If you don't know this, what do you know?

The pressure to change and move on was strange and very strong. If you're wondering why, the rain falls hard on a humdrum town. Whalley Range. Each household appliance is like a new science in my town. It's really laughable. With a soul full of loathing I left the North, I traveled South. I got confused and killed a horse (do you know how animals die?). London, giddy London, under slate gray Victorian skies, where taxi drivers never stop talking. The streets are crammed with things, eager to be held. There's music and there's people who are young and alive. I booked myself in at the YWCA. I said, "At last I am born".

There were bad times. Alcoholic afternoons, low-lights and long nights. The depths of the criminal world. I stole and I lied. I drank too much. My love life, the grime of the Earth: a tattooed boy from Birkenhead, a buck-toothed girl, accountants, taxmen, uniformed whores (Bunny I loved you!), a shy, bald Buddhist. So many illustrations...on the flesh rampage, 4:00 am, Northside Clapham Common. Behind the home for the blind. On cold leather seats, a friendship sadly lost. A strange dust, mammary glands, mouth full of pie (I ended up with sore lips). Under the iron bridge. That November, starved of mirth, I took strange pills all around Sloane Square, stoned to death. (Used to be a sweet boy-- hair brushed and parted, I never even knew what drugs were!)

I can smile about it now but at the time it was terrible.

Now it's twelve years on. Armed with wealth and the best of health I came back to my old city with fierce determination. Churchillian legs, hair barely there. There's a wild man in my head. I'm so glad to grow older, move away from those awful times. But I just can't find my place in this world. I haven't had a dream in a long time-- life is very long when you're lonely. I wear black on the outside, because black is how I feel on the inside. I don't dwell on what I'm missing. The woman of my dreams, well, there never was one. I will live my life as I will undoubtedly die, alone.

Yes, let the old dreams die: we cannot cling to the old dreams anymore. Dreams have a knack of just not coming true! Seems so unfair I want to cry.

This is true, and yet it's false. My faith in love is still devout. I can't help the way I feel. I'm only human, with powder kegs between my legs. I ask myself, "Nature is a language, can't you read"? I know it's gonna happen someday. To someone, somewhere, alma matters. I want to live, and I want to love. It's crap, I know-- my only mistake is I keep hoping-- and I'm ashamed of myself, as usual (that's the story of my life).

Deeper into the fog I fall, just like a moth to a light that never goes out. Jesus. I'll never learn.
__________________
Sad Songs Are Nature's Onions

Last edited by Worm : Yesterday at 11:05 PM.
 

Girlfriend

Purrfect Member
All hail worm for a talent beyond belief! :D

I wonder if worm had any more up their sleeves!

Hope someone starts this thread up again!
 

Young And Alive

Senior Member
Girlfriend said:
All hail worm for a talent beyond belief! :D

I wonder if worm had any more up their sleeves!

Hope someone starts this thread up again!
It was me who started it but I can't remember when I last looked at it.
 
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