It’s been a long time since my last post. Partly because I’m a lazy good for nothing monkey, and partly because a friend died and I didn’t really want to believe it.
I was rather hoping he had sneaked off to Epping Forest or somewhere like that, and was living a content survivalist life style amongst the trees. I even had a dream about it where he and his partner Emma had a big plan to start up a new eco community in the woods. But no, the body was found, the funeral held. I must admit now, I was probably wrong.
I liked Paul so much, he was someone who felt exciting to be around. Yet despite fancying him there was something slightly frightening about him that meant we could never be that close. I remember meeting him and Emma in a squat party somewhere in North London. They seemed so cool and beautiful, and exciting. They were part of their own scene and they booked Rude Mechanicals for many gigs before putting out our album.
It is puzzling for me, I’ve had a lot of friends die in recent years, and you see I was meant to die first. Twenty years ago the doctors told me the brain condition would kill me within ten years. Twenty years later I’m still here and friends of mine are dying. How can the doctors have been so wrong? I’m not complaining, l’m glad to be still here and relatively ok, it’s just very bemusing. I feel a bit guilty about it.
There are so many people with so many different beliefs, tastes, temperaments in the world. So many arguments, court cases, wars, yet in the end, whoever we are, king or pauper, we will each die (apart from those that want to turn themselves into computers I guess)
Paul and I were going to make an album together, full of odd poetry and found sounds, I let it drift away though, due to poets block and severe laziness. I deeply regret that, it would have been good.
Till we meet again Paul. X