This morning I woke in Glastonbury with Lou. An expensive hut in someone’s garden with expansive views. Lou got the train last night. “I won’t be much use,” I warned her, but she was right to come. She wasn’t working today but she’s about to start a long shift on a Christmas show. This morning we could spend some time. We had papaya and then a lovely hippy brunch. Then a bit of browsing the bullshit shops on the high street. I managed not to buy much. A bit of catnip and some dragon’s blood. My i-ching this morning talked of the dragon and once at a ceremony I was given a dragon blood bindi and it helped with my resolve.
Then a walk up the Tor. Grey day but no rain. Not as many hippies up there as usual. It’s a place about the heart, a place of power despite the fact that humans have absolutely swamped it in bullshit. Old weird beardy tutting douchebags being more spiritual than you at the white spring which IS ALWAYS CLOSED WHEN I GO TO GLASTONBURY, ALWAYS. I stuck my head under the outflow. I thought I was gonna get in. One of the volunteers had a piss in the stream of it as it rolled down the hills. Another scowled as I examined the gate. Amateurs everywhere are woefully bad at peoplerising.
Up the Tor it was clear though. The paggro was all at the base. And as Jimbo, my neighbour in ceremony, said: “You gotta be careful in Glastonbury. It’s full of all these wankers who think it’s clever to try and do black magic. They haven’t a clue either. Dangerous idiots.” I filled my flask with water from the wells and after we had breathed our fill of the four directions we drove back to London.
I’m still feeling wrung out but it’s good too – there’s motivation tangled up in it. I’m a bit sad, a bit tired and happy to be back with familiar things, the flat the cat and all the stuff. The stuff is gonna be doing some shifting with me I hope now, especially in these dead weeks when I’m unlikely to see an audition. Christmas. Although it was this time last year that I sent the tape that led to Deep Cover, so the wheels are still moving.
Lou is fast asleep in my bed. I’m waiting until I’m tired, sitting up with Tom Bellerby and I’ve been flicking into my Joseph Campbell and playing silly buggers on the iPad. It’s ten now and likely I’ll get myself to bed soon as ideally I want to be up and good to give Lou a lift to Sloane Square for her first day on a new job. I haven’t promised her, but that’s my intention.
A different shaped Al in the world of the old shape. It’s familiar but it looks slightly unfamiliar too through these wide open eyes.
I’m actually looking forward to having a few weeks unemployed, even if it’s terrible for the bank balance. There’s stuff to look at and I think it’ll actually be fun to look at it as well, just so long as I break it into little tasks.
AlBarclay 