A day in the life of an addicted U2 fan
music can affect people's lives)
She... Is benediction. She... is addicted to me...
The alarm goes off with its usual unnerving "bip-bip"... (Argh! It
sounds nothing like U2! where's the CD player??) My hands shaking, my
mouth dry, I mamage to put TJT on; WTSHNN starts after what sounds like
an eternity of silence.
Breathing in deep, I start my daily activities humming ISHFWIL while
preparing my first cup of coffee of the day. WOWY makes me stop just to
listen... Meanwhile the coffee has gone cold. Whith a half - muttered
swear I start to prepare another one, but then I look at my watch; no
time! Gosh, I'm late for work! (with extreme sorrow I stop RHMT in the
middele and run out of the house).
Somehow I make it to the bus stop just in time to catch my bus... As I
get in EBTTRT from the AB album is playing on the radio, and I consider
it a good sign... I find a place to sit and turn on my tape recorder. I
know I should study the choir's last rehearsal, but what do I care? I
take out of my bag a tape I made out of U2 live/ UABRS album and sink
into the music. As SBS plays on, I see that the place where I get off is
just two stops down the line. TEC begins, and I just *have* to close my
eyes, under the song's sheer energy. Just enough to miss my stop... I
get down at the next stop, and have to make a pause to change tapes. The
choir can wait. Here. AB. Just what was playing on the bus when I got
in. WGRYWH is my favourite... Well, I'm at the office, at last... My
boss is already looking at the clock on the wall: one minute to 9
o'clock (Pfew! That was close!)... I take off my headphones and sit at
my table. I make another coffee, but have no time to drink it; a moment
later the world comes tumbling on me: letters to write, things to
translate, phone calls to make and receive, costumers to attend to...
Not a free second to reach for the "play" button. I try to cheer myself
up by humming every U2 song I can remember, (there's too much confusion
here, I can't get no relief) while I count the minutes for 5 o'clock...
Ah, finnaly!
To the Internet Club, quick! I put my headphones on again to listen to
HMTMKMKM while I check the Wire and answer the e-mails I got. Oops! Time
to go home (what, already???) I come back listening to the GH, B-sides.
At home I put R&H on, and as I prepare my third cup of coffee I
remember: the choir! No time to drink; I leave the cup on the table and
run to rehearsal (I *knew* I should have studied that tape!) while
trying to remember something, *anything*, from last week. Never mind,
the others never tape anything anyway... At home again, I gather my last
sparks of strenght and manage to put TUF on, my hands shaking, my mouth
*oh, so* dry... As I toss and turn alone in my bed, too tired to sleep,
a vision of Bono takes me by my hand, and takes me to this promised
land... I sink into a warm dreamless stupor to the last sounds of MLK...
(what?!? The alarm clock again???)
And I can't tell the difference between ABC News, Hills Street blues,
and a preacher of the old time gospel out...
All my love,
Lucilla
We're not the message, we're the messengers... The message is love
Wim Wenders
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