(Song of the week… “Bad Girls” by M.I.A)

I have no idea who Delius is really. Yeah, he was born in my home town and as a friend of mine said, “Banged a Black woman and left her pregnant. Turned out to be a bit of a c@nt didn’t he?”. And a pub I used to like bore his name… More recently though, my local haunt has appropriated his monicker.

This has become my creative home. The home where I do the work I ought to be doing, the stuff I don’t get paid for. As always I take the shit jobs no one else sees the value of. Like cleaning. Everybody benefits but no one wants to be known as “The Cleaner”. Middle class arseholes like to say things like, “The first name you should learn is the cleaner’s.”. They like to be ‘seen’ as ‘inclusive’ but are rarely spotted thanking the cleaner at the end of the night.

I digress, as ever, caught in a rant.

So, I’m serving beer, whilst doing my real work. The undefinable, but none the less real. It’s a feeling I have, perhaps it’s mental illness? One I am never the less proud of. I like to give, what ever is needed. A beer, a laugh, an ear, a hug. What do you want? If it is mine to give, take it…

I watched the performance, it was amazing. A Double Bassist plays, whilst a dancer performs. Piano, leaves, star light… On a loop, for two hours. Nutters. We are in a church, the spiritual home of Delius. I am surrounded by the people who helped to build my theatre and I can feel a sense of home. I am not giving tonight. I am receiving.

I have had some disappointments over the week. A friend I was glad to invite back in, has turned out to be a bit of a c@nt. But I am strong. Somewhere in all this mess. The heaviness of being out of work and out of luck… It has lifted and revealed “Me”. I haven’t felt this good in years. And now it seems as if the community I once belonged to is coming together again and being re-birthed.

This post will seem incongruent and disjointed I am sure. I haven’t given my all and told the full tale. It is protection. I am convinced that honesty will only get you so far. I will not lie, but I will omit the FULL truth, as pertaining to myself… Don’t we all?

Fuck it. Let me reveal myself in this poem inspired by this evening…

“I Am Your Eternal Friend.

As the hoover carries away three hours, people shout their joy.
Bass reverberations hang in the air and the smell of oranges play around the room.
There are small injuries, the kind that remind you of the times you have shared.
And as you check in the mirror, you will catch your breath and remember.
I drank to catch up. I paused, stopped and listened.
The fog of the moment embraces me and the common purpose highlights each individual need.
Once again, we are here together.
Reaffirming what we already know to be true.

Does anyone want anymore beer?”

I am drunk and I bid you goodnight!

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