Last night was good. The Band, The Bar, the tattooed arms with
two-fisted pint-pots, an invisible corner for me & the note book.
The streets were their usual electric selves, happy faces, buzzing,
liquid colours, but something…I felt something slip in under the
door. This morning, dry throat, but nothing bad, easy to sort
with throat-coat. The weather in Essex is beautiful, bright, an
uplifting light that chills everything out, lays-back all the
colours until they’re misty. Showered, listening to the radio,
& then it hit me. All the chemicals have lined up wrong.
I’m going down without a reason. Nothing to hang it on, no face
or name, or circumstance. Nothing overloading me, no pressure,
no troubles & I can’t put it into words – it’s not on the map.
I’m going down, not even drowning, it’s like the plug’s been
pulled out of my reservoir & I’m draining away. The chemical
tumblers have all lined up & I get why people throw the towel in
when everything from the outside is looking great. If I didn’t
have a program to make me move my feet I’d lie down in a field now
& just let it end. But…I’ve trained these muscles to kick in
whenever this happens, when the isolation gene takes over & makes
me withdraw. There’s a phone in my hand & I didn’t put it there,
the fingers that know how to play guitar have phoned a number &
there’s a voice,
“How’re you doing?”
My thoughts are broken, take me to places I don’t want to go.
I don’t expect them to mend or can ever trust them again.
In & of myself I haven’t a clue, but…I’ve trained these feet
to take me out into clean air, get me into the car &
drive to be amongst people who get it & laugh about it – oh
the healing power of laughter!
“I’m coming over now, get the kettle on” says the voice on the phone.
The chemicals are beginning to disperse, mingling with the good stuff,
watering down, thinning out. I feel something like ‘light’ here inside
again. Not going to give it a name I don’t want to anchor it, spoil it,
stop it growing. I need to be amongst people who have the other pieces
of the puzzle & not all of them feel like this. Some of them are
regular, get-on-with-it people, some of them are family.
Really, really, really looking forward to seeing my buddy again.
The joy of still being on stage together blows me away.