Out of the infiniteness of total black a universe is born. From where I am, a long way back, floating, or lying on my chest, I hear nothing. I think “Is this the big bang?” and “if it is then why can’t I hear it?” I tell myself to be quiet and watch.
Instantly from this big black ball arc bright searing fractaline complexities, like an eclipse of the sun but, you know, like turned on. Boof. First the black – nothing – then… this. But instead of being blown back, or hearing it, I go towards it, slowly rotating anticlockwise forward then downwards…
When will all this end? Do I just do this forever?
Awakening with a start and a sharp quick intake of breath my eyes open. 8am. And a rig needs moving, a marquee to set up and a party to be partied. A big bright hot sun beams brave and other worldly tingles lock in immediately consciousness is aroused. What happened last night? And the other four nights? And days? Why is my favourite T-shirt ripped? And why do I think that I should feel bad because I’ve done something wrong but feel good because I did something wrong?
Nero walks in as I sit up. “Don’t”, she puts her hand up toward me and stops me talking before I can breathe in.
“Today is a new day.” Her look says “Please, go with me on this.”
I look back just before saying “OK.”
I lie back on my pillow, upset and wanting to cry but only able to do that sort of twitchy, bottom lip type trembling. Not so upset you’re actually going to cry but upset enough to nearly cry.
A smile really dos come right on through this and I once again thank the guy that made the universe explode for giving me another chance.
Conrad is here from Lincoln and already up smoking spliff and drinking tea. So is Stuart, Conrad’s mate and generally all round sound geezer. In fact they’ve both been here since Thursday. Or was it Friday? Anyway, Terry’s round “visiting the kittens” and, while she’s here, telling Conrad that she’ll see him “at the party” this afternoon. Or was it down the pub tonight? Down the pub tonight I think because today is actually Sunday. Anyway, it all starts to come back slowly at first but then in a great resounding rush of embarrassing winces, screwing my eyes as each event unfolds. My memory goes “Ha, ha, you thought that was bad! What about this…” and whips open another curtain of unconsciousness to reveal an even more socially embarrassing gaffs that send another jolt of realisation through my whole body. Jolt! Aarrh! Jolt!! Aarrh!! Wince! You know the feeling?
Other people are here now. Rosie with the van. Ben, already laughing at his fingernails, but otherwise here to help move the equipment out. There is also Barry, who gives me a lighter on a string with a picture or rather a detail from an old flyer of ours. I thank him and he says “That’s alright.” Helen, Adam, Paul; also from Lincoln and here to let their hair down. Which, from what I remember about last night, they did. I remember having a conversation with Paul who told me he can only do coke and grass because a few years previous he’d fucked up a bit and started caning E’s and speed and other stuff and how it had fucked up his pancreas and now he’s diabetic. He said how everyone still tries to give him or make him take E but, you know, it’s a party and he doesn’t mind repeatedly saying no.
Nero keeps the tea flowing and everything is chummy and we all sit down and chat for a bit and watch Supermarket Sweep with Dale Winton and laugh loudly at how excited the contestants seem to get.
While we were at the Deal party last night our marquee was used by Nick Arnold for his usual once a year D&B spectacular. I’d rang him and he’d promised it would be at The Woodpeckers at 10am for our party that afternoon. It was.
We’d had some technical problems (ie everything had fucked up, again) but when the music kicked in everything just became spot on.