Showers + Cheese.

‘The Maestro says it’s Mozart but it sounds like bubble gum…’

Waiting For The Miracle.

I was standing in the shower just now, eating cheese when it occurred to me I have a mere 20 minutes to get dressed, write this here blog and dash out the door.

It’s opening night for my dahhhling cousin, Emma Elizabeth and as much as I’d like to curl up in bed and sleep for a thousand years– alas, we soldier on.

Did I mention Singles have just released a new Swiss Cheese line and it’s really delicious and terribly processed comfort food…

I have had far too many late nights this week and am struggling to accept the fact it’s still only Thursday.

Last night found me at Sun Studios in Alexandria for an uncles exhibit. A really cool space if ever you get the chance– replete with gallery dog– Charlie, the Staffi.

I came home much too late to be up and at ’em again by 5am but still managed to find time for a wee dance before bed.

Waiting For The Miracle, on loop being my track of choice.

I really love this song.

I jumped online today to see what people think Cohen wrote it about. People think the darndest things…

Waiting for fame.

Waiting for love.

Wanting fame.

Wanting love.

I like to think this song is about discipline.

I like to think it’s about idiots and popular culture.

And finding someone who shares your sense of humor.

Maybe even finding someone who also likes to eat cheese in the shower.

Here. Have some Leonard in Belfast:

Waiting For The Miracle.

Baby, I’ve been waiting,
I’ve been waiting night and day.
I didn’t see the time,
I waited half my life away.
There were lots of invitations
and I know you sent me some,
but I was waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
I know you really loved me.
but, you see, my hands were tied.
I know it must have hurt you,
it must have hurt your pride
to have to stand beneath my window
with your bugle and your drum,
and me I’m up there waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Ah I don’t believe you’d like it,
You wouldn’t like it here.
There ain’t no entertainment
and the judgements are severe.
The Maestro says it’s Mozart
but it sounds like bubble gum
when you’re waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Waiting for the miracle
There’s nothing left to do.
I haven’t been this happy
since the end of World War II.

Nothing left to do
when you know that you’ve been taken.
Nothing left to do
when you’re begging for a crumb
Nothing left to do
when you’ve got to go on waiting
waiting for the miracle to come.

I dreamed about you, baby.
It was just the other night.
Most of you was naked
Ah but some of you was light.
The sands of time were falling
from your fingers and your thumb,
and you were waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come

Ah baby, let’s get married,
we’ve been alone too long.
Let’s be alone together.
Let’s see if we’re that strong.
Yeah let’s do something crazy,
something absolutely wrong
while we’re waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Nothing left to do …

When you’ve fallen on the highway
and you’re lying in the rain,
and they ask you how you’re doing
of course you’ll say you can’t complain —
If you’re squeezed for information,
that’s when you’ve got to play it dumb:
You just say you’re out there waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.


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