2 January 2008
The Blower's Daughter
And so it is just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
most of the time
And so it is the shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...
And so it is just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is the colder water
The Blower's Daughter
The pupil in denial
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...
Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to
Leave it all behind?
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind...
my mind...my mind...
'Til I find somebody new
View the video for The Blower's Daughter at YouTube.
Some time in 2005, I went to see the film Closer, starring Jude Law, Julia Roberts, Clive Owen and Natalie Portman.
I'd heard good things about it, liked the cast, and thought it might be a pleasant way to pass some time.
I finally went to see it in Reading, I think.
I was in love. That truly, madly, deeply kind of love that utterly blinds you to the possibility that everything is not all wine and roses.
He was captivating. Utterly charming, with a devilish twinkle in his eye. He was trouble with a capital T.
He was, for a time, exactly what I needed, and wanted, and then, somehow, he changed.
I don't know exactly when it happened, but I know the moment I realised that our relationship was ultimately doomed.
It was in a cinema in Reading, I think. Watching Closer. Near the end of the film, as Damien Rice starts to sing The Blower's Daughter.
I don't know where it came from. I don't know exactly what in the film, or the music sparked it off, but a great sadness welled up inside of me, and I sobbed.
I sobbed my heart out in the cinema.
Silently.
My chest ached with the effort of not howling the place down.
He asked what was wrong.
I lied, and said the film was sad, which it is, but not that sad.
I knew we were doomed, but I kept hoping I was wrong.
I wasn't.
I should have walked away.
I didn't.
Couldn't.
In the end, a long while later, the decision made itself, but not before it took a good chunk out of me.
I still can't listen to this song without a lump forming in my throat.
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