Sometimes I get drunk and ranty and surprise myself in the morning by things I’ve needlessly held onto over time. It’s not a good look, raking over old pain. Never serves a purpose.
Last night I went to Caroline and James’ space on the King’s Road, where they’re running a show all weekend with a friend of theirs. It’s called “Emergency Chill Clinic,” and it feels like the sort of thing that was dreamt up after a rave in someone’s flat in Dagenham. I went today. Last night though I was too late for the show, didn’t finish until just before 9pm. I just went up and said hello, haven’t seen them for a while, drank lots of beer on an empty stomach. It wasn’t late when I got to bed but I was not a well boy this morning. I am definitely getting too old for that stuff.
Thankfully all I had to do was walk a little dog, which was a mercy. I got up, drank electrolytes, had a banana and a painkiller and got myself over to Olympia.
He’s an old dog now. Not so good on his legs. We were quite a pair, sprawled out on the sofa together. Dogs age so fast compared to us, I still remember him as a spritely young pup. He’s still got the spirit, still stubborn as a mule when he wants to be, still likes his belly stroked. He’s just slower. I doubt I would have been happy walking a greyhound this morning so it was a good combination, he and I, pottering around in the spring sun.
Then I went back to Emergency Chill Clinic and got to lie in a hospital bed and have a relaxing time looking at some visuals whilst busy actors played doctor. Last time I was in that space above Marks and Spencers it was for a kiddies birthday party and I was dressed as Hello Kitty. Much better this way round, but I didn’t get paid and I ended up buying merch because fuck it why not, I go through T-shirts at an astonishing rate. Thankfully I’m earning tomorrow. Will have to get myself to Stratford early.
I’m winding to bed, still feeling pretty fragile but the chill clinic helped. Bed bed bed and oh the joys of it, I can’t wait.
AlBarclay 