Twisted, But In No Way Bitter Part 1

As I type this, my brain is still in bed, lying the wrong way round with it's boots on the pillow and head under the covers going "uuuurrrrrrrggggg".

Yesterday night was a blur of booze, pills, shrooms and ungentlemanly behaviour. I only meant to have a couple of pints with a few friends before heading to the Plan B nite. As you've probably guessed, I didn't get there. Wine and beer had flowed freely for several hours by this point and the conversation spiralled down into the depths of vulgarity it always reaches when certain people gather together and start drinking. I now know something about a certain musician which would make you piss yrself laughing and shiver at the wrongness of what someone you know thinks is acceptable behaviour. I wish I could tell you this story here, but it's far too disgusting to relate publicly, and I'd probably get my head kicked in. But if you ask me nicely the next time you see me, I'll probably tell you. One by one, people left as they became too pissed to do anything except engage drunkenhomingbeaconautopilot and sine wave their way home. I was standing at the bar, waiting to get served, when I heard a loud kiwi female voice from the opposite bar say "Fuckin Hell, is that Lee?"

Now I know what y're thinking, but no, it wasn't who you think it was. If it had been I doubt I would have walked straight round to the other bar grinning like a fool to give her a huge hug, and there is no fucking way what happened later would have happened. It was weird, we lived in the same house in 93/4, always getting stoned and drunk and whatever together, both really liked each other, but nothing ever happened, even though we were both single at the same time. Admittedly in those days neither of us knew what day it was half the time, which may have had something to do with it, and after she moved out, she went back to NZ and we lost touch. So when I heard those strident tones across the bar, I was a little surprised, to say the least.

I was also really fucking pleased. a lot of the people who I knew during the time I was in Skree have moved away, emigrated, burnt themselves out or just given up, leaving behind all the weirdness and anyone who was there at the time, which is a shame, but you know... So there she was. Same long black hair, same lopsided grin, same piercing green eyes behind the same glasses she always wore. Total fucking deja vu overload.

More later, got to go and blast the fuck out of some freejazz mayhem down in Brixton, but there's so much more I need to say about last night and other stuff I'll probably carry on as soon as I get home. My brain may have got out of bed and had a shower by then so maybe I'll be slightly more coherent.