Don’t say a prayer for me now, save it till the morning after #secondlife

Advisory: This post contains nudity.

Out of nowhere he appears, seated in front of me, gazing into my eyes as I spin around my pole, gyrating to the metronomic rhythms of the Synthpop. Not particularly interesting or attractive, I barely notice him quietly slip a hundy in my jar. Smiling, I slowly drop to my knees before him, crawling forward as a I gently cup his hand in my right hand. I bring his fingers up to my mouth as I softly kiss them one by one, lingering on his pinky for a few moments… I look up at him and whisper, “thank you for that lovely tip”.

You saw me standing by the wall corner of a main street
And the lights are flashing on your window sill
All alone ain’t much fun so you’re looking for the thrill
and you know just what it takes and where to go.

A few nights later, I give Purdie the outline sketches of subsequent date I had with the not particularly interesting or attractive stranger. Only hours before, I’d met up with him, over a glass of red wine and dinner, of all things.

Pretty looking road I try to hold the rising floods that fill my skin
Don’t ask me why I’ll  keep my promise I’ll melt the ice
And you wanted to dance so I asked you to dance but fear is in your soul
Some people call it a one night stand but we can call it paradise…

We dined, and danced, fully in the present, not dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. No future considerations, or past reminiscence.

Electronic percussion and synthesized melodies intertwine in a potent new wave cocktail, nearly drowning our conversation as we gyrate to the metronomic rhythms.

Later, Purdie and I get to talking about song lyrics and their meanings, as you do at 4 or 5am in the morning.  I mention how I can’t help but deconstruct songs and interpret them, while others can simply enjoy the music, the sound, the energy of the tune. Personally, I find that making my own interpretation of lyrics tends to enrich my listening experience – I like it – so it’s become a bit of a habit.

As we are talking, she (quite unintentionaly) throws down the gauntlet to interpret a Duran Duran song. I take a stab at one of my favourites. It helps that it’s a fairly simple song to figure out, and when the pressure’s on, it helps to play a game you can win – especially when the challenger is a die-hard fan.

Don’t say a prayer for me now, save it till the morning after
No, don’t say a prayer for me now, save it till the morning after

How curious, I wonder, that Duran Duran chose to set their video for Save a Prayer among the jungles, beaches, and temples of Sri Lanka… Filmed atop the ancient rock fortress of Sigiriya, among the ruins of a Buddhist temple at Polonnaruwa and the island’s southern coastline, the band members run along the beaches, strum their guitars among the Indian elephants, and sear their bare feet on what must have been roasting stones, as they gaze in appreciation of the megalithic Buddhist structures meant for contemplation. Might they have heard the Buddha whisper…

Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.

The Synthpop oozes through the arches of the domed temple. The sounds of electronic percussion and synthesized melodies mix in a potent New Wave cocktail, nearly drowning our careless conversation, as we gyrate to the metronomic rhythms.

“How was the food?” Purdie asks.

“A bit synthetic”, I reply.

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