Right now I should be... Ah, fuck that.
Right now I should be sat on a stinking nightbus, a comatose, swollen junkie to my left, seeping pus from his bare, fat ankle, and I am.
Tonight myself and my band played an entirely brilliant show in London - joined onstage were we by my old friend Damian, and more recent friends Why Lout?. My little brother was there, as were numerous people of my past, and present. Afterwards, I took a party of some dozen to Trash, a place I used to frequent when I was young and silly, and there I saw folks who once meant so much to me, and now appear like ghosts, wafting sadly, chattering well meaningly enough, but emptilly, in my peripheral vision. And I met people who had been to my shows, and enjoyed them, to whom screech-ed moments of my weird actuallity had communicated. I hung with my brother, and my old friend.
And my friend Luke was there, and we spoke breifly, before I lost him to some bullshit sub-industry chatter. A little before the end of the night, we reconvined, and left together, and before any humanity could pass our lips, he leapt aboard a bus, and was gone.
Lingering, shadow like, at a bus stop, I was momentarily excited by the drillish vibration of my telephone's text message alert, but it was Luke. And he said,
"Ah, these buses that sweep one home. When will we get a time when yr less eaten by essence of Don and i'm not so gobbled by the work and thinking of the home. I don't know. For which i am sorry. And feel old."
And, incensed, shudderish, I replied,
"Essence of Don? Fuck you Luke. I'm sad. Essence of being a person. Fuck you."
Because it's true. And I know I haven't been communicating very well, these past dozen days, or less, or more. But that is because I am sad, despite the fantastic shows, the wonderful people, the lights and the booze and the noise. Folks ask me how the tour has been going. It has been fucking ace. But outside of the tour, I am a human, and the best bit of being that human has been torn from me, and I am sad, and that might be lame, gay, weak, whatever you may wanna call it. It's OK, I can cope, I'm dope. I spent most of my life being told everything I was, or believed, or wanted, was bullshit, and I wasn't deterred then, and neither shall I be now.
I should note, at this juncture, since begining this post, I've been involved in an altercation with some posh boys who felt it amusing to bear scorn and unkindness on the pussing junkie. And I am now in the flat I pay for, and it is warm. I have to quit smoking again. I have to continue to be. And I will. I am full of love, just like always. Always. Anyone that knows me will tell you that.