fresh beat and old age. a combination for a comedown.
The tickets are booked. The venue is unsurprisingly dodgy. The Chemist has
come through and my status level of panic is at defcon 4. Like any good
Jew… “we ask ourselves, why?”
the pills. And pills to combat the sleep deprivation. And pills to be happy
on steak-knife Tuesday. And the pills… what exactly are we taking? A
combination of what? Oy vey. The drivers are booked. The orange juice to kill the taste is bought. The
chewing gums packed and so is the small wallet – the one that wont fall out
my pocket while I bounce around like Brad Pitt in 12 monkeys. We ask ourselves why? We do this to ourselves to show that we are ageing. To show that our
recovery time is not 12 hours but 12 days. We do this to look out of place
with all the 18 year olds with their glow sticks & cool hoodies. We dream we
are 18 but we aren’t. We dream that we love the music but we don’t. we
pretend to be all we can be – but this is not the Army. Good luck out there soldiers. See you on the front lines with your wide eyes
and gnawing jaws.
Drive safe and for gods sake get some sleep before Monday slaps you in the
face while you thumping them fresh beats in your car on the way to work. Brent.