Thursday 25 July 2019

This is how I medicate. Fuck off.

One of the greatest things ever would be if we discovered that Paint from Les Friction was actually Freddie Mercury, having been in hiding for almost thirty years. Listen to Torture. I don't know about you but my brain replaces the role with Freddy Mercury's voice, even though he would be in his early seventies now and the voice I hear is definitely late thirties.

I can age you using only your voice. I'm good at it. It's one of my many odd talents, along with tightrope walking, putting out streetlights with only my brain, and collecting lost souls to keep until the universe takes them away.

You want to know why Rocketman didn't do as well as Bohemian Rhapsody? It's because Elton John is still alive. One can only be built into mythic status when one is no longer here. Larger than life, brighter than the stars, it's a level one only achieves in absentia, in death. It's the reason why Jacob is not a memory but a force to be reckoned with, something I haven't actually been able to do because as I said, my talents are weird and small. Just like me. How am I supposed to conquer Jacob's memory when he's a legend, never ever relegated to just a man.

The boys say that Paint is Paint, whoever he is, and Freddie's long dead.

Just like Jake, right?

Right.