weekend was funnest in forever. friday night i stayed in, sank wine, listened to loud music thru miraculous new amp, prepared kit for theatre, and luxuriated in attendant ego recharge. i broke my headphones at ICFTHS/APR, and then lost the remains, along with £30 of artificial flowers that profuse from every available niche in my bedroom between shows. without them, room feels bare, kind of sterile. i have to replace. it is not the same.
my friend flyboy was guesting at le rave’s Unpop night, so I made my way over there uncharacteristically early, hooked up with friends, congratulated the pains on their second single release (which unfortunately turned up too late for their actual, um, single launch show), sorted out a stimulant/depressant ratio that wd prove remarkably optimal, and escorted le rave home where he dumped records, changed and attempted suicide thru the medium of shaving, blood loss. it was horrific. not only did he have at least three enthusiastic rivulets of blood coursing from corner of lip, but he’d gone after his ear as well, the freak. i gave him styptic pencil, aftershave. we managed to staunch it enough to get into detournement.
that was good, too. felt a kind of solid weight, a reality – despite the fact the place was way overpopulated with extremely beautiful types of every persuasion which wd usually make me feel anxious and negative. felt real, like an interactive simulation, or a movie that gets it right. maybe the mini-breakthrough with the play has shifted my mood a great deal more than i’d realised. feels like a mental block has dissolved. felt like myself. first time in a while, the way i remember me, rather than what i was maybe turning into.
when the club finished, we went to a party at ground zero studios, arrived there threeish to find bands playing in small rooms ribboned with fairy lights. when they finished, we made way to a dark room where disco lights swept around the walls and floor like giddy, psychedelic constellations dissipating on eccentric paths. someone found a rubber hand, a badge-making kit. can’t imagine what we must have looked like, making badges at five in the mo. mine had a rainbow emerging from an ice cream sundae, said “I’M DEAD.”
downstairs, the studio boss, who’d been really good to me – given a free promo ceedee and agreed to sell us mortal beer – was trying to shut the place up and said: “i’m not being funny, but what kind of lifestyle do you people lead?” we were soon out of there, ending at friend’s house, a room half-full of survivors drifting toward stasis, sunday morning. time to order taxis.