On Tour

Without the parallels being drawn yet; on a whim; I almost feel like I am on tour, as Amanda has described it.
In my sleep deprived state as it were, it all seemed to make sense. Here I was in the house of utter strangers and second-hand acquaintances; jumping in the pool at 4 AM in the clothes of a boy I hardly knew. I had spent the day eating junk food, listening to music and moving computer equipment. By the time my head lolled to the side unwillingly in the car that afternoon I had been awake for 28 hours straight. And I felt really ballsy to have not fallen asleep like most of the others. It seemed like a life befitting some sort of rock star or reckless individual.
And yet this was no party, no wild night by any means; and I think that somehow added to the paradox and the duality of the situation. I was reminded of a paragraph from Amanda’s blog as I thought this; it came back to me almost word for word:
“over the summer at the rock festivals, … the magazines were pumping the public with stories of the Rock and Roll Life while backstage was usually a bunch of cold and tired musicians standing in line for catering, trying not to offend one another.”
And I think that somehow summed up this event perfectly. On the surface, when viewed by an outsider under the right light, it could seem rowdy and fun; when thought of in the right way by a participant it could seem enjoyable and lively. But look just a little further and you see that it was no more than a mediocre and controlled mess.
Nothing works how it’s supposed to these days. Teenage girls are now the ones who proposition teenage boys for a bit of casual you know what; and chances are that the teenage boy will turn down the girl to go play sport, video games, get munted or hang out with his mates. And now it seems the girl has the right to get pissed off about it, and the boy think it ridiculous; but be sure that she will still be the one who continues to think about it while he loses himself in his own little world. I don’t know what the world thinks it’s playing at; but the role reversal offers nothing to the situation. I’ve been up for 28 hours, and I feel simultaneously ready to drop into sleep at any dull moment, but highly alert and open with big eyes.
And why is it all so imbedded on my brain? The party. Them. Talking nonsense at me. My name. A cry. A catch phrase. Is it the hours? The noise? The fatigue? And all the while British India sings lines from ‘You Will Die And I Will Take Over’ on repeat in my head: “I got my girl friend on the phone telling me she needs to speak to me, she needs to speak to me… another day is suddenly over!” And I feel sick. So is this what it’s all about? Living. Loving. Life and all the rest of it. Wasting money and going to shit parties. How easily we humans slip into that, that apathetic mindset of just going along with what everyone else is doing. What does it take to realise you have made a misjudgement and get yourself out of there? And it amazes me more still since I am the kicking and screaming kind of person. I still feel like I’ve been travelling too much. The unreality is bordering on the ridiculous. There is snow behind my black glasses. Little white drifts in the creases of my eyes, ready to dissolve into a flurry of perfect flakes at the cry of ‘Look alive soldier!’ and somewhere outside the bank Johnny Depp was whispering at me either some vague and complicated instructions, or meandering eloquent propositions…
And you nap for just 15 minutes and it’s gone. I liked dreaming whilst awake, in an exploratory yet tentative way. But what do I care with my salt water hair and Dettol knee. I would have rathered been at work. Almost.

It’s all fitting into place and all falling apart.


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