Ebert's Truth
25/01/2018


It’s been a shit couple of year’s. Really, I’ve been in a fetal position stuck in a state of mourning. Now, January 2018, on a very small violin we can play Moby ‘Like a motherless child...’ for me, for it has felt like this. Dragged across the coals of karma, the cycle began at the point of the Solar Eclipse…


The Solar Eclipse that occurred on March 20, 2015, at 29 degrees and 27 minutes of Pisces, affecting people born with personal planets and points at approximately 24 to 30 degrees of the Mutable signs (Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, and Pisces) and at approximately 0 to 4 degrees of the Cardinal signs (Aries, Cancer, Libra, and Capricorn) most significantly.


As a Libra, well it began, by putting my dog down.

 


Calling ‘Euthanasia’ on the fifteen year old God of Dog’s.

A harsh call.

The next day my mother died.

Two day’s later, I had a miscarriage.

 
On the day of the Lunar Eclipse, occurring on April 4, 2015, at 14 degrees and 24 minutes of Libra (opposite the Sun in Aries), affecting people born with personal planets and points at approximately 9 to 19 degrees of the Cardinal signs (Aries, Cancer, Libra, and Capricorn) most significantly.

 
We buried my mother.

 


Today, a couple of years later and now, fifty year’s old. I can see only all the irony’s as they’ve played out over the years. Honestly, I think the last few year’s have been a kind of mid-crisis of truth. Existence to date, as if I’ve been pulled by invisible strings on a crazy miss-guided adventure, with the wrong tools??? Ffs, honestly hitting fifty has been like hanging out with a rabid dog, named ‘Reflection.’

 
Fifty years. It does, it makes you wiser. Yet Jesus, getting here, has impelled my soul to the devil’s spike. What a merciless world, it’s not surprising few of us really wanna be here. Yet I get it all, while I seem to know less; I do, I get it, I see how ‘life, the universe, and everything’ works. It’s all just a Game of Consequences.


Yet in the addled memory of it all, in this my life to date. My recollection’s of past times and space come triggered by music. It’s always a tune, that will take me back. Throw my mind into a past picture of a moment in my mayhem. Obviously on the subject of music, lover’s seems the quintessential example of life's musical score.

 

 


For me, with my first love the tune is Genesis ‘It’s one o’clock and time for lunch’ off the ‘I know what I like’ album; which writing now, feels a bit iconic and ironic. Anyway, with my ex-husband, it’s Sinead O’Connor’s ‘Nothing compares to you.’ Lord knows why, because I can honestly say most other’s ‘have compared better.’ The surreal weekend with the Irish Gypsy that I could never ever forget, that was Pascal Comelade. The clandestine affair I had with another delicious Irish chancer, will forever be the memory of him singing Paolo Nutini’s ‘Candy’ outside my bedroom window in the middle of night. The amazing, Irish/Hungarian son of a psychotherapist and world chess player, he, the chainsaw juggler, well, he’s in the history book with Massive Attacks ‘Unfinished Sympathy’. Dear Moodie, he’s Bowie ‘The Bewlay Brothers.’ Markee, it would have to be Dylan. Ffs, I could go on. The list does, however and while seemingly, I remain an English girl, who prefers the Irish, Scots, and the Welsh.


It is as it is, for every lover there has always been that one tune…


That one piece of music that will forever be reminiscent of each of the knight’s of my realm, that are now, a part of my grail. This, this list of men that have been inside me.


Is there a book on the subject?

 


Obviously there’s more to each story.


Yet on the subject of music associated with each man I’ve shared my body with. It was someone called Andy, that gave me Alexander Ebert’s ‘Truth’ one evening, staying in Herefordshire, sometime near Christmas 2013. What a tune. Yet it is not Andy I associate this track with. Instead, this is the story of a friend of his and a love affair, that was more passionate, more destructive, more emotionally painful than any other.

 

 

 

 
It was, Bez of the Happy Monday’s who first introduced me to this Mancunian legend, that I’d love so deeply. However, as the first inkling’s of our romance became public knowledge, it was also Bez, who took me aside and making reference to my new lover said ‘You know you’re dealing with the man I know to have the biggest heart, yet, he’s also, the toughest man I know...’


Meeting my match, or opposites attract – or something like that?

 

I’m tough too.

 


Anyway, whilst music remains the one constant in my life. During those fun early days of this romance, Ebert’s tune and that whistle, became a shared anthem for the two of us. As the big hearted, funny, fit, energetic and passionate man I know this guy to be. Up to his slick tricks. It was at Glastonbury 2014, he cleared the floor of a large tent, bribed the DJ’s with a load of beer and in a delicious sweeping gesture, pulled me into the tent, onto a cleared dance floor as they played ‘Truth.’


A crazy, fun, slightly embarrassing moment. Dancing closely, yet with only us on the floor; there, the two of us swinging between feeling conscious and self-conscious, off your face at Glastonbury. Still, I will never forget it. We did, he and I shared an extraordinary time; ours a massive love.

 


A kinda gangster/bankster trilogy on 21st Century life. All edgy, risky and hedging bets. Passion is, yet while I blame Queen & Country, the British Class System, Pascal Escobar, the CIA, me and other fecking people for the end of this relationship.

And actually ‘the entire establishment’ for all other fuck up’s in my life.

 

 
Anyway remaining Punk and with the Sex Pistols on this, while I’ve honest anger about the endless list of inequalities, ever present in modern existence. Using my intellect and critical reasoning, I ask ‘What is it that attracts us to other people?’


All these, old tape's and 45’s?

 


For me, the recognition is an energy. Something intangible, yet something of a tangible strength, an essence of some ‘ting’ radiating from within someone. A twinkle, a spark, that is duly reflected by that same ting within me. It is as it is, not all attractive men have attractive souls, while the secret is how to change. It is more than good looks, that makes a man irresistible. Just as I know, I’m no grand beauty, only ever described at my best as fit and sexy. Again, by example, it is that something else, some intangible ‘Whatever?’ Come on, in it’s rawness it is as I know it, an energetic buoyancy that resonates beyond two people’s conscious understanding. Its just there, and in being ‘just there’ stands more intense, more powerful – your senses on guard. Difficult to ignore; something within screaming to explore. This is, what attracts.

 
It’s a familiarity.

 
Past lives, here, to find our crew?

 
I do believe.

 

 
Subsequently, I accept that in no way is the essence of attraction to another soul, to do with the superficial of what a person does or where they come from, at least never in my book. In this my feminine ‘search for a Jehovah’ this Joan Osborne ‘What if God was one of us’ being ever the ultimate draw, in this whole Disney debacle of finding ‘the one.’

 
In justification to my own mother’s screams ‘to my seemingly indiscriminate sluttishness.’ Every man I’ve laid with, has taught me something different, something else I’ve needed to understand, and always more about myself. I’ve had few one night stands, yet no one man has taught me everything.

 
Not the slut my mother painted me to be, but I am a selfish artist.

 

I wanna do what I wanna do; a traveller at heart, the pattern is roll on…

 

 

 

Unconventional. Tricky. Yet we know only what we know.

 

Albeit, I've fucked up time and time again, because I can never explain it.

 
However, in a life time of meeting people, finding those we truly energetically resonate with remains something rare. Passion, true Bonny & Clyde, Sid & Nancy like. That ‘...can’t explain it; just got to live it’ type of soul experience. That out-and-out electric passion, all its energetic pull. That kind of desire for a man, that devours the mind and body and stands absolutely undeniable. In the great scale of things, in a world full of men, this description of passion I’m trying to explain, I’ve shared with a tiny few.

 

 

 

Still, I'm one of the fortunate ones; the sense is one of gratitude...


Alas as is well written, this kind of passion always comes at a price. Those that love you the most, can hurt you the most, and in doing so, become your greatest teacher’s. Its the shit truth; I’ve known a life time of it.

 

Ebert sings about it...

 
Ever living a life we can not plan for. Never to know when or how it will finish. Experience itself, only to learn from the experience. Nothing set in stone. The only sure thing is to live it. Break the rules, learn to make your own. Ffs I dragged myself up, I’m fucked up, but still, you can only feel your way.

 
Healing?

 
Its a process.

 


Yet crazy as life is, and as is the unwitting twists of life's irony. In the last few year’s of this Alexander Ebert’s tune meaning much to me. It has always been the whistle, there’s something about a man that can whistle. 'Mr. Ebert’s Truth' on my list, he could whistle. In a packed crowd, over the top of a band at a concert. I knew I’d not be lost, trusting absolutely in this man’s whistle to find me. It is as it was in our time together, in a sprawling crowd, travelling, on the beach, in the supermarket, wherever? I always knew if I didn’t know where he was, the whistle would come…


Unique, the whistle 'the all clear' to make you feel totally secure. Honestly, no one can whistle like this guy.  Its an intrinsic part of his loyal ‘mi lion’ and Manchester way. He looked after me. I genuinely love this man.


I know he loves me.

 

 

Love never dies, things merely change.


Yet the Ebert’s Truth of the matter, the closing chapter on this mourning monologue of lost children, dogs, lovers and mothers. The understanding, the bona fied acceptance of the whole experience of these past couple of years. All this maudlin moping over shit you can't change, with the rabid dog 'Reflection.' Came actually, not so long ago; when in a moment of weak whisting for ‘the whistle.’ I actually Googled the lyrics to this 'our song' and looked at them again.

Oh ffs, music, I mean why are we drawn to a particular track???

 
Ffs it’s only a tune; but it is as Duke Ellington wrote ‘there’s something else that makes this tune complete.’

 

Ebert’s opening line ‘The truth is I never shook my shadow...’

 

And alas, I really needed to.

 

 

 
We are complex being's. Damaged putting it lightly.  Myself I’ve lived many different lives. Worn so many different t-shirts, it’s like you get to a point, where you don’t know which one is your's any longer. The need to be alone to reconfigure has been my story, a few year’s mourning, in a life time of what has been one long party, has been good for me.

 
Its had my darkness shinning.

 


Fucking drugs, fecking alcohol, feckin’ raves and the music industry, fashion and the whole fickle fifty year’s of 'rock & droll' and all its cultures, sub-cultures, and critics. Its nearly killed me. Today, the desire is to age gracefully. Certainly, if mourning has taught me anything, then, the TRUTH is love never dies, but there comes a point in its lesson, where you have to let go, and forgive it, before you’ll find it again.


It is not easy to love deeply; it is of something else, it has its own identity. Just as all these pieces of music I carry around with me ‘...have charms to sooth a savage beast, to soften rocks and bend a knotted oak.'

 

So time passes and we accept 'the past is gone.'

 


Yet only now. have I shaken my shadow.

 
It’s taken two, nearly three year’s to mourn 'in a kind of mumified mental state' for my mother, Mr. Ebert’s Truth, my dog, children and other stories. A grand psychological expedition. Love itself, being what we’re all trying to understand. Yet if I should die tomorrow, or disappear in India, never to be seen again. I’d like to say this to a few character’s that have known me well, played their part in this story of my grail.


‘There is no right or wrong; nothing is perfect, only maybe, its all just right and was never meant to be any different. The treasure; the experience...’

 

Forever remembered by a tune.


So that’s it. Here I am, packing to go to India, ready to move on again. Well aware, we are standing at the point of a January/February 2018 Eclipse Season, and a whole new cycle of life.  

 

The dark night is over, chapter closed.  I know this, because the TRUTH is I'm here, deliberating on 'Who's gonna be my new tune?'

 

 

 

 

 


Alexander Ebert ‘Truth’ Lyrics

 
The truth is I never shook my shadow

Every day it’s trying to trick me into doing battle

Calling out ‘faker’ only get me rattled

Want to pull me back behind the fence with the cattle

Building your lenses, digging your trenches

Put me on the front line

Leave me with a dumb mind

With no defences

But your defences

If you can’t stand to feel the pain then you are senseless

 
Since this, I’ve grown up some

Different kinda fighter

And when the darkness come, let it inside you

Your darkness come, let it inside you

Your darkness is shining

My darkness is shining

Have faith in myself

Truth

 
I’ve seen a million numbered doors on the horizon

Now which is the future you chosen before you gone dying

I’ll tell you about a secret I’ve been undermining

Every little lie in this world comes from dividing

Say you’re my lover

Say you’re my homeee

Tilt my chin back, slit my throat

Take a bath in my blood, get to know me

All out of my secrets

All of my enemies are turning into my teachers

 
Because light’s blinding

No way dividing

What’s yours or mine when everything’s shining

Your darkness is shinning

My darkness is shinning

Have faith in ourselves

Truth


Yes I’m only loving, only trying to only love

And yes, that’s what I’m trying to is only loving

 


Yes I’m only loving, only trying to only love

And yes, that’s what I’m trying to is only loving

 


Yes I’m only loving, only trying to only love

And yes, that’s what I’m trying to is only loving

Yes I’m only lonely loving

 


And yes I’m only feeling only loving, only loving

Ya say it ain’t loving, loving but my loving

I wanna only love till I’m only loving

 


I swear to god I’m only loving

Trying to be loving, loving, loving, loving, loving, love

Yes I’m only loving, yes I’m trying to only love

 


I swear to god I’m trying but I’m only loving

Ya say it ain’t loving, loving, loving, love my love

But I’m only loving, loving, loving

 

 


Tags: love, music, Alexander Ebert Truth, Moby A motherless child,