My day had started as a
slow one;
a snails’ pace in the
early morning on a half askew bed with a hung over girlfriend who was baiting
death.
She wouldn’t let go of
me-
and I was enticed.
All of this, and I was
already a day late.
By time I left the house,
it was a hot mid-afternoon and I was fully burdened as a pack mule:
several pens, just in
case, pads of cheap, flimsy paper to write on, a spanner- for god knows why… 2
packs of compress, -in case shit got real dangerous and heavy blood flow was
inevitable- a gas mask, a pig mask and some tribal face paint to help me fit in
with the locals.
There were a couple of
bananas for potassium, a pillow, a tent with holes in it and other crap, too. I
should’ve brought my trusty knife, just to be real safe, but then maybe I’d get
jittery around the others and stab something.
Better to use a spanner.
I can’t get arrested for that.
I had a friend I was
waiting for, L. I guess he was in charge of the drugs ‘detail’… He was early,
now he’s late, and the smell of sugared peanuts fills my nose with its rich
sweetness and makes me hungry.
Not even on the train
yet- and there’s still the rum, or vodka, or whatever, to get.
Real slow start.
Anyway, seems like I
could be gone for weeks with all this shit, when really, it’s just 2 days.
And one of those is half
spent already.
Nevermind. I look forward
to arrival… ETA- what time is it now?
Let’s say 2 hours from
now.
A lot of two’s… Too late-
too bad, two days. Time to go native.
I’ll get there, stand
atop some place high and scout the area, try and find a good place to set up
camp. Once we’re located, I’ll begin to question the locals and let’s see if I
can’t find out something about yesterday…
I know how my yesterday
went- I spent it waiting around and drinking.
Would’ve rather been
‘there’. Would’ve rather been anywhere. ‘There’ will be ‘here’ soon enough, I
should hope- and I look forward to the journey. I’ll stare out the windows and
watch the countryside go by as we get deeper.
Give me time to set down
a few ground rules, too.
Need rules.
This isn’t a holiday.
We might be going for a
short weekend break away to a festival, but I’m a reporter, and this is my job.
My job, and I’ll treat it as seriously as any other.
Playgroup festival.
Playgroup… Sounds like something for kids, but I wont let that fool me and I
wont let down my guard. It’ll be just as debauched as any other I’ve seen- I’m
sure.
Let down your guard and
they’ll surprise you somehow.
Certainly surprised me-
I’d never even heard of the festival before…
Now I’m going.
Funny world.
Got to rendezvous with
Emily for my ‘press-pass’.
We’ll see how she is…
The journey itself proved
easy- fairly quick and hassle-free.
We’ve arrived- the air is
just growing bitter as I witness my breathe condense before my eyes.
My shoulders ache,- the
town is quaint and rural, it’s a pretty place to put on a weekend of madcap
antics and young adults acting like children, dressed as bears and other
animals- or soldiers, though they act like left-wing extremists to a tribal
drum beat that resonates across the whole (small) expanse.
A land of green and grey.
Walking in, following the
designated path, I noticed the dashed remains on the floor, of a blackbird. My
first thought being that the poor creature was accidently crushed by a car.
There is no inoculation
for tragic manslaughter committed to animals.
Walking further I saw
another, and yet another, then a gull and yet more!
A trail of scattered dead
birds that left an image of destitution that no car could cause.
Perhaps a large cat-like
predator.
Perhaps one of the many
attractive young vixens garbed in a beastly attire.
Perhaps they got carried
away?
If I’m lucky, perhaps one
will catch me wandering alone in the dark;- a sizeable treat to be devoured.
Eat me, oh, please, eat me!
No? Just one bite!
You won’t regret it- kill
me! Tear me to pieces, I am useless!
A flightless bird,
destined to die.
Nearing the camp, I find
a bag of marijuana on the floor. It isn’t much but I imagine it’s all they had.
Well, sub-standard or not, it’s mine now, much to their soon to be found
disappointment.
Finders-keepers.
Already I’ve been
questioned for my lack of faith.
Apprehended for not
wearing my masq…
I was further
interrogated for my heresy by one zealous female.
I explained my invalid
self (yes, I really utilised such debasement!) due to my poor timing,
provisions, and lack of light. All truth.
But to no avail. She was
not to be appeased.
I must do better if I’m
to pierce in to the breast of my target.
I must go native.
I must prove my worth.
And so, I have prepared a
cocktail of whiskey and rum.
The rum for its exoteric
nature, and the whiskey because it is a reminder of my love.
I smoked.
I was immersed- I had my
pad and pen, filling voluminously as my palpitations increased to their
thumping, rhythmic drum- and then a bald headed drone in his sparkly t-shirt
began to inquire into my treachery again.
He saw my pad and began
to ask me a series of inane questions.
“Who was my favourite
band?”
I answered all his
interrogatives with my true head as he continued explaining how ‘this’ was his,
and how he wore their name embroidered on his t-shirt.
I lost my pace and began
to drink from my poisoned chalice. Now
greatly more so because of the recent free chemical acquisition.
I stood, arms crossed in
the centre of attention- my merry band now in full swing around me,- yet, too,
to have drunk from my brew. anxious and intrigued. curious, abashed, and
appalled. Not yet as them and thrice now asked, as a young blonde gesticulated
toward me in flirtatious, mocking mimicry.
I shrugged, she turned,
and was invaded by another male, eventually.
I moved closer in to Pan-
met… no, not met, but found myself quite appropriated next to a martian, and I
was still yet to drink the potion.
We retreated back to base
where I dampened my drink with cola, and took a swig to wash down some
penicillin for my tooth.
Two beasts fight down the
way.
My head spins and my
vision blurs.
We sit- my companions act
as salesman, the music, early begins to wind down.
Everyone talks about the
same thing. The same drugs. The same shit.
How utterly inane.
I’ve never been to
Bristol, but here, I have met the Bristolians.
The night got cold- especially
cold, but my crew and I waited until morning, questioning and bonding with the
locals, engaging in their rituals, recreations and dramatics.
By time of earl morning,
we had all decided to head for camp, where the three of us lay, waiting for the
rain to stop and growing only wetter with each passing moment.
Crowded together, 3 large
bodies, keeping warm and getting wet. Rather with her…
I slept for a little time
and then cabin fever took hold. The space so small, I felt caged, and so the
canary leapt.
I headed back on my
rounds and with the hopes of procuring some rations.
The weather turns
apocalyptic.
It rains and rains in
droves. A constant, flowing, downfall; growing more or less rapid at
interments, like a floating, aqueous creature.
Submerged in a deep red
haze- all of us damp, or drenched, and our belongings!
The base had capsized
half to one side. We’ve heard news that a puddle’s growing since we’ve left and
at any moment the rain could apparently never cease.
We had to return to base.
But here we were dry- no, not dry…- warm though, and comfortable but most
importantly, we were not getting any wetter currently, and any venture outside
would prove the loss of a most precious ‘place’ with the others. And worse, I
had smoked the last of our cannabis- my cannabis,
with a friend who accompanied. It was a heady supply for one roll- but I feared
ineffective as two, not otherwise, but in our un-slept state, we were ever so
pert, and there was no reason to waste good smoke when it could put us at ease.
For all of the end of the
world we were chilled, and laughing, too. Actually having a good time with our
jokes about the place, until mounting fears began to climax.
Then D raised a balloon
for L, and with the noise came others’ attention, then along came the
inevitable bidding war.
Customers came, L got
high again, and still the rain poured.
We’ve seen the tent and
it was all for nought.
The condition of our base
was laughable. I had always proven nothing short of always amounting to a
practical joke before, and now…
L and I were stuck
outside in the wet and the wind. All for now, we had hoped there might be a few
extra layers to grab, maybe the beds could be salvaged… Every second was superseded
in significance by the one that came next- it was a battle with the elements
raging and as I struggled around grabbing for drinks, or anything that might’ve
proved useful, I only got as wet as if I were out in the rain.
All our provisions that
we’d left- even in the bags, were now drenched through.
It was a bitter battle,
and one we’d lost on all fronts.
To find warmth, which was
now proving equally as difficult as it was necessary, we pay a visit to a barn.
Cold and with a smell in the air like slow boiled cabbage. The people in there
bop up and down like chickens, shaking their rumps, (some wear the heads of
other animals all the while- a lizard, a pig…) to cliché music played by a
‘bluegrass’ imitation band.
When they play a duet
from the ever famous Deliverance. And
so; first they dance like chickens, then later they squeal like pigs.
With the passing of
hours, our faith and good spirits dwindled.
My clothes were all
soaked through- even the spares I packed and had never worn.
The cold blew and every
draft reminded me more of my poor condition. Even the base was waterlogged and
puddles dispersed themselves across every surface imaginable within.
My sleeping quarters were
now null and void. I had previously maintained every permissible sentiment to
stay- hoping to penetrate into the core of my experiences. I wanted to really
understand what it was all about; what profound truth they all had that I
lacked, and to accomplish this, I needed to see my mission through.
To leave early would only
secure a disappointment in me.
I would feel a failure as
a soldier, or intrepid explorer, only a half complete job. But the weather…
If I had learned
anything, seeing the provincial site slowly left- disbanded and derailed by its
own followers, it was that the half converts could only bear it all so long as
they could be besides themselves with their alchemy, and in failing that, when
God and nature washed through their illusion, providing its true potency over
their conjuration- when faced with adversity- many had left.
Simply packed up and
went.
But I remained.
And so, too, did the
truer believers.
I saw it was mostly the
older bunch now. Some professionals stuck there for the sake of work, like I,
and we exchanged intel with a profound resignation.
My comrades and I met in
discussion. It was soon resolved that we would leave soon after nightfall- to
see all that was mostly left on offer, and only escaping the terrible, cold and
sleepless evening into the early morning. I was relieved, yes, but also
distraught. I felt no closer to my missions goal.
We retreated to base and
began preparation to get out of dodge.
The camp was lowered,
levelled and all the provisions were checked for their worth and compared to
the amount of energy and effort necessary to carry them on our trek through the
thickage. The carcass was picked.
I left the tent, my bed
and pillow and packed up my saturated bags with a grim disposition.
The mud was thick and the
water fell so hard downhill, that the powerful streams managed to somewhat
jettison the flow up the path, along our way.
The mud stuck and made
slippery the walk, but I, prepared now with my thick army boots was blessed
with my resourceful ease at the journey.
Arriving at the bus depot
just on time, we were fortunate to catch a cheap ride to the station where our
return journey would really commence.
I had passed, along the
open expanse of pure dark enmity, a standalone generator powering nothing at
all but a single floodlight, erected from the orange box below it. It was a
cataclysm of design- a lone obelisk to commemorate the ingenuity of man, and
for all it’s might only helped to further exemplify nature’s true magic. To
see, through the invention of man, how wide and dense was the world. So varied
in colour, all based on our own ability to perceive, and only ever as destined
to better itself beyond our own knowledge and ability to appreciate.
The rain dazzled in the
light; a cascade that fell as a whole, though we only felt the microcosm of it
all. Each and every blade of grass, each and every leaf on a single tree.
There was an hour’s delay
between trains and we attempted to make ourselves warm on a set of chairs. The
cruel light from within the pale brick buildings only showed how wet we really
were by the constant trail of moisture we left in our wake. We were all tired
and beaten and burdened.
Home was now our only
solace.
We took a cab to save us
a short walk as soon as we touched down in the city. We exchanged only few
words, said the polite goodbyes and sat down. L had a way further to go home,
and so he came back with me. That and he was used to living off me.
As a home departure from
the previous range of sustenance options available to me, I ordered a cheap and
greasy pizza with meat and all the works.
The food before was good,
but this, I felt, was better.
I cradled and spread out
in my bed that night, the rain falling gently outside. Relaxed and warm in my
bed, too tired to think of anything at all.
In two days, the storm
will find its way to here and the night will rage and dance with the rain in
the light and thunder.
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