It is early hours. I like to take care when i write but fuck it, i am drunk and it seems it doesn’t take much. Still, I suppose a blog should be about your head space. So be it. I am not too gone so as not to use a full stop…or to remember how many ‘o’s there are in which ‘to/too’.
I have just got home. Shocking I say. I am a lady of the suburbs who likes to do her Guardian Kuruko (sp?) before bed and tends to wake up oft these days at 4 am with too much on her mind.
I went out at 11pm. Bonkers.
World Aids Day today…. yesterday…I have not yet slept.
I remember Phil McCavity. His face round, as though he stands here by me now. I see him opposite me on the train. We are singing Xray Spex and The Damned. He hams …stormy sea!…and he looks like a bank clerk but for his fluorescent socks and tonight he will wear his mohair jumper and dance like a bastard. He was my friend and I think his dad scared him and i never knew him long enough, not beyond our partying teens, not long enough to get beyond a wrap of speed or our record collection to ask him. We were Gang. The last time I saw him he was standing outside Laindon station, he had discovered the new romantics. His shirt was frothy and I was still a punk and he told me I looked a state. I didn’t mind that he wore his brave new skin like a weapon. I still loved him for who he had been to me. That is how it is with me.
When I was sick with neurosis, Depeche threw a party in the bowling alley. I should have gone. I found another reason not to. Phil was there so I was later told….in a wheel chair. Four years earlier I hadn’t known he had had sex. He wasn’t out. Then he was dead and I never got to tell him how his was a face that stuck around for me. I had wanted to find him for a long time after chance collected me and sent me skating, but i lost him to london and then to Aids, by which time he would have no idea that I laid claim to him at all.
I sang at G.A.Y tonight.
Someone poured me a slug of cognac that was many times greater than my choice of shot size. I drank it nonetheless…like a cup of tea that ceases to steam, and I changed into a mouth that works and eyes and legs that do not. I sang in some form. Who knows if it sounded right. I do not. My monitors seemed not too be working. I wasn’t too bothered. The crowd was dense…were they with me? I don’t know. I wasn’t too bothered. I smiled into the cloud of smoke and I sang hearing only the room and I felt well enough at home.
I sang Don’t Go…to a Yazoo backing track. I have not done that since last i was with Vince. It was faster than I remembered..my voice seems to have dropped lower than an old man’s naggers…this track was pitched for a girl. Was I ever a girl?
I was on and then i was off and i don’t know where the time passed.
I met some very nice people today. Briefly in that way you do when your paths cross fleetingly and you imagine they are not likely to again. Lovely people with faces as familiar as family members. Ordinary, warm, famous people wanting to connect for a short while..to dance and to sing and then to fuck off home. I wonder why they ever intimidated me. Age is a great thing…or is that cognac?
It will be light soon. I think I shall sleep tonight