In reply to:

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Considering that the only fans of Sylvian around here are Monkeyboy, Claude and me, that's probably for the best.

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What are you talking about? I've been a fan for over 20 years. And I'm probably the only person here with an autographed vinyl copy of Secrets Of The Beehive.


Trying to navigate TW reminds me of what it was like having dial-up service.

Congrats. You're always so focused on the Icelandic weirdo that I didn't think you could care for other artists.

Me? The 13th Duke of Wybourne? Here? On teenagewildlife.com? At three o'clock in the morning? With my reputation? What were they thinking of?

In reply to:

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Regarding the grey tights, well, I must confess that they're fictional

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I should have known you'd disappoint me...

And you never did get that snap for me of you cupping Oscar Wilde's marble cahones... Hmmm, maybe I will have to punish you, after all.

Summer makes me drowsy.
Autumn makes me sing.
Winter's pretty lousy,
But I hate Spring.

Well, I looked for Oscar in St Stephen's Green, but when I realised that he actually was in Merrion Square, it was too late to go back and give him a big hug and shafting .

Me? The 13th Duke of Wybourne? Here? On teenagewildlife.com? At three o'clock in the morning? With my reputation? What were they thinking of?

I'm tired
I'm sore
I'm worthless
I'm beaten
I'm broke and I'm broken
I'm an unwanted burden
I'm a pathetic example of a human being
I'm unemployed and unemployable
I'm nothing but trouble
I'm nothing until the music starts
I'm nothing when the music stops
I'm not the man I wanted to be

I want to go home

Je est un autre

And you have a slight paunch.

Me? The 13th Duke of Wybourne? Here? On teenagewildlife.com? At three o'clock in the morning? With my reputation? Has no one thought of the consequences?

slight? I'm leaning toward severe, though the last few months of unpaid unemployment should be sorting that out somewhat

Je est un autre

Taking a dive again
but sadly not for money or glory but
just to stand up and fall
again and again;
they call you the glass jaw
when you know
you learnt how to take one on the chin
a long time ago


but it's time to forget
your moment in the sun,
if that's what you can call
the 16 months you spent standing on your own two feet


yes, back into the ring
to take the jeers personally
and wish you were somewhere else
despite the fact that you have
nowhere to go


I hear the crowd calling
(anyone's name but my own)
and smile knowing
I could have had him in the 3rd

Je est un autre

You had before you a bride of blue sky
Blossoming cherry torch to her bright side
In fingers of bark, so rigidly clutched
A morning too pure to be painted or touched

Easterly spread with her limbs leaning to
The warmer horizon, all haloed with dew
Pitted against dawn’s naked translucence
Blazing like eyelids in sun’s heavy nuisance

Now, morning melts; you're a trembling awning
Trickling under her mouth’s frigid yawning
Winter has stolen her, veiled her in gray
Bedded her; sullen, with nothing to say

No spirits to rise, no roots to forge deep
She lies - your white willowed bride - in a heap
But, soon the sun beam to your cheek will be married
Soon, the cold dream of her bleakness is buried

(it's like a sewer of puss) - Dogz on TW

oh no
but maybe
did you see?
that boy you met
became the man you saw
who grew up so fast
all alone
and thought he was Peter Pan
but became Rip van Winkle
and you love him?

sucks to be you

Je est un autre