Saturday, May 27, 2006

B. U. I.

In plain English, Blogging Under the Influence.

I don't recommend it. Always have a Designated Blogger on hand.

I thought perhaps my current state of, shall we say, lessened inhibition, would let me cut loose and write about what's on my mind. Not working.

At least I am typing very carefully, so as not to slur my words.

And it occurs to me -- being a placid, amiable drunk -- that I don't really want to burden strangers with my woes. I'm not the kind who bangs the bartender's ear with tales of misery.

As is so often the case, Frank Sinatra sang it, and I'm feeling it now:

It's quarter to three,
There's no one in the place except you and me,
So, set 'em up, Joe,
I've got a little story I think you should know,
We're drinking, my friend,
To the end of a brief episode,
Make it one for my baby
And one more for the road.
I got the routine,
Put another nickel in the machine,
Feelin' so bad,
Can't you make the music easy and sad,
Could tell you a lot,
But you've got to be true to your code,
Make it one for my baby
And one more for the road.
You'd never know it,
But, buddy, I'm a kind of poet
And I've got a lotta things I'd like to say.
And when I'm gloomy,
Won't you listen to me,
'til it's talked away.
Well, that's how it goes
And Joe, I know you're gettin' anxious to close,
Thanks for the cheer,
I hope you didn't mind my bending your ear,
But this torch that I've found,
Has gotta be drowned or it soon might explode,
So make it one for my baby
And one more for the road
The long, so long, road....


I'm listening to Frank's great album, Only the Lonely. I've never understood it better....

And another, from the same album....

Hey drink up, all you people, order anything you see
Have fun, you happy people
The drink, and the laugh's, on me
Try to think, that love's not around,
Still it's uncomfortably near.
My ol' heart ain't gainin' any ground
Because my angel eyes ain't here.
Angel eyes, that old devil sent
They glow unbearably bright.
Need I say that my love's misspent,
Misspent with angel eyes tonight.
So drink up all of you people,
Order anything you see,
Have fun you happy people
The drink, and the laugh's, on me
Pardon me, but I gotta run
The fact's uncommonly clear
I gottta find who's now the number one
And why my angel eyes ain't here,
'scuse me, while I disappear.....


Goodnight, my small blonde friend.

You have forgotten me, but I cannot forget you. Not tonight, not ever.

And that, friends and strangers, is the reason for this little exercise in B.U.I.

5 comments:

O said...

You BUI much better than I do. I am sorry you are feeling lonely - I know that feeling well... unfortunately. I hope tomorrow is brighter...

MrScribbler said...

It's not a skill I wanted to develop, o.

Tomorrow seems likely to be more of the same....

Birdie said...

I never liked Frankie boy....
thanks for the chat yesterday ... and hopefully we'll meet up in September!!

MrScribbler said...

Sinatra was The Man, birdie...in some technical respects a lousy singer, but no one could get more out of a song.

BDraggs said...

Frankie was THE Man.....It's his world, baby - we just live in it!