Hit a bummer in the summer, and I’m down with my town. Hit a brick wall and then felt the winding down. Steam explosions of high-pressure emotions, crippling the chassis at the point of corrosion. The familiarity of fatigue, the weary indolence is over; I’ve hit the crackdown and cracked up, and the fractures go down to the bone.
Had some days in a daze. Saw same old friends just to prove how much I’ve aged. Even my jumped-up working-class-ness was up for discussion on this occasion. That, and the rest of my life and recent changes. Plus, I played a gig, that always encourages failure. Why do I do it? Well, you have to throw the dice in order to lose, and I need options in case I have to choose. We air our secrets with our voices not our thoughts. To be evil you have to actually do something for which you need to be caught. My standing there, singing, is my bell ringing – ‘oh come to me, come to me with your dry lips and kiss the spittle rattle, and you shall be moist’. Oh my people, hear my voice!
When I do hit a low, I like to see how far down there I can go; I like to laugh at the bottomless pit for the echo.
So, I sang, I took some MDMA with good friends, and suffered the indignity of friendly ridicule. Put myself up there, wobbling on a bar stool above the abyss. I was brave. I went out into a world full of Jesus People, children, and people I went to school with. I had discussions about fantasies and kidney dialysis, cannabis, going to bars, urinals, vinyl and cars.
I am unscathed.
I think I’ve got more anxiety than depression. Either/ Or but with the same medication. ‘Don’t Get Down, Get Edgy’, that’s my motto, for what it’s worth. If you’re going to frown make it a tetchy one. Get them first.