Not being me

So you're not me and I'm not you. That's a obvious fact and I'm afraid there's nothing you can do about it. Not being me can appear to some of you very hard to take. Because you're older than me or younger than me, because you screw less girls than I did or more girls than I did but in a different way, because you hopefully didn't screw the same girls that I did screw, and because of many other things...

You haven't written a song called "Christmas day" and recorded it with your german pal in a music room at Bishop Stopford School . You haven't won an English flag at the Cherry Tree picking correctly the all Manchester United team of the 99 final to a stupid barman. You haven't vomited on you in the toilets of the Cavern and woken up the next day wondering where the hell will I find the same trouser that I spoiled in Liverpool. You haven't watched France vs Holland in a pub in Richmond with hundreds of rosbeefs burping their joy at every goal from the Oranje.

You haven't seen Paris at night just coming out of the station, blinding your eyes with the sharp contrast between the City of Lights and the shadow town of Kettering, England. You haven't watched Graeme's haircut on monday morning at 9 as he tried to reach with just one hand both his paquet of cigarettes and a glass of whisky from last night, standing at his piano in his yellow dressing gown.

You haven't spent your childhood reading alone in your room and your teenage years trying to guess how does it taste to kiss a girl, to finally make out with one in Athens, down the luminous gardens of the Parthenon, and find it so disgusting you can't wait to try again and correct your initial misapproaching of the thing.

You haven't locked yourself in the bathroom, shut the lights and listened to The Cure's A forest to add some extra reverb to the song. You haven't cried when you first heard Neil Hammond from the Divine Comedy singing "Our mutual friend" on BBC2 and tried to read Dickens' novel of the same name just for the sake of it.

You don't owe 985 pounds to HSBC and another 500 to a friend of yours. You don't prefer the missionnary position to the obvious dogstyle banging. You can have female friends and get on well with their sisters. You started a blog years ago when it was still hype to do it. You didn't wait till you got 22 to start smoking and you don't cough anymore when you smoke a joint.

You didn't have my life, you didn't start this blog and there's no chance I will meet you at Claire's party next saturday since you're not invited and neither I am.