18th December 2004 (Croydon) Pre-gig hot loving. Will fucking on the stairs become blasé in 2005? The venue is rammed, which only adds to my nerves as all lyrics and chords start to slip away. Try to hide in the far corner. Chat inanely to Joel J and John F, both of whom meet PS … Continue reading Notes from a Fragile Island.
Tonight, laying in our bed - feet beached in sheets, salt beads on our brows, salt beads on our cheeks - the thought again about leaving. It was fleeting, like the lighthouse beam that plays across the headland, plays across the bay. The beam that threads the walls of this charmed room is a silken … Continue reading A Thimble.
James in black. Drainpipes, black. Second-best shirts; buttoned to the throat, Dylan and Dylon-black. Fingernails stained, if not from clothes dye, then from varnish, black. He wore double you double you two jackboots: zip-up, calf-high, inch of sole, steel toed, black. Hair, cheap, black. He would sometimes sport a pink TRB button, a lapelled safety … Continue reading Inch of Sole/Punk As Fuck.