gah. tired. too tired to make any headway on the play, despite my best intentions. too tired to do anything much, but this – for what it’s worth – an update covering some of the bases between my missionary trip up north and tonite, having not long returned from experimental movie screening – some good, more bad, high point being the chance afterwards me and driver took to hand almost fifty copies of zine to people who looked like they might actually be interested.
i’ve covered my theatre meet already, i know – but wanted to make clear the fact that was the least of it up there – i had (build music, roll credits) -
...a long weekend in the pink
it begins saturday the whatever, the twentysomething of april. i’m on a train at 11, spend afternoon cutting thru the countryside, the occasional urban build-up blaring back like burst of noise, or big block of data. i’m staying with rocky & aura, and drop bags, hit shop, buy drinks and drink them, not much else until – a little later, shading into evening – i go rendezvous with old comrades at the monkey magic club (i know, i know – i suggested monkey stew if they absolutely had to go simian – but what can you do?) – anyway, they’re still setting up, so i get to go behind the music and meet up with ghost, tick-tock, brooklyn, red and elle, flip, safari, assorted others – a whole demographic from my past, people i L.O.V.E. and haven’t seen in way too long.
it’s brooklyn’s second public set as deejay, so i do the whole cheerleader, supportive friend thing, and he’s fine. it’s cool. he keeps it old school hip-hop, and meanwhile, the crowd’s filtering in. there’s a few motion-blurred hours of chasing round the joint, doing the whole catch-up thing, dancing in between, then i help clear up after, and safari takes a bunch of us for a curry. by this time we’re the last customers still standing.
me and ghost are sharing sheena – which is, i should stress, the name given to brooklyn and tick-tock’s trademark zebra-striped camper van. me and ghost are sharing a double bed set-up in the back, actually – which briefly worries me when he announces his queasiness to no one in particular. still, he’s soon over the worst and we’re both out for the count not long after.
next morning, we’re mumbling in the spreading light, comparing notes – when brooklyn and tick-tock show, make tea, slip on sunrise FM (“the world’s greatest asian music station”) and the day fades in accordingly.
while they go for breakfast, i check in at base camp, find rocky watching tv and wait for lola to arrive (who’s up here working on the bradfest). she’s got me belated birthday presents – a godspeed! album and thesaurus of slang. lola rules.
it’s raining, but i’m determined to make it to the moors anyhow – we reconnect with the others, and drive up there. find a solitary ice cream van sitting in the middle of this big green nowhere, buy ice creams and watch for rainbows. it’s kind of desolate, but pretty. well, pretty desolate, at least...
we hit leeds, their place – pick up fast food and listen to music – before, for a finale, parking up outside cnut’s new house, where we buy wine from the supermarket and have some kind of small party with him and sweets, who’s dressed in a black and yellow jumper and looks like a cartoon bee. they’re living in some disgusting blocked entrail of suburbia, which prompts me into yelling “hail satan!” long and loud – and often – in the hope of weirding out the normals. try as i might, no one’ll join in. their loss.
i’ve missed rocky’s curfew for the second nite running, and so crash at the boyz’ place, back in leeds – monday mid-morning, i’m on a train to manchester. royal exchange turns out to be terrifyingly huge – major in a way i didn’t realise. ...the rest of the story i’ve already told. the other side of the meet, i have enough time to hang with rocky a while, before spending the remainder of my nite travellin’ back to sunny brighton. where it is dark and cold. and which is the end of line, for now.