Daisy from puppy to dog
As the sticks hit the edges of the drums to let the blues ebb from the keyboard and Graham slinked longlegged around the room in the style of a dinosaur, I saw Tom and Maya sipping water from a large empty cider bottle with a jagged glass spout, placed my foot on the high hat pedal, and rolled once again. Hit it, Tommy.
The afternoon had been regailed with tales of Apple Day, of chickens bearing their sponge riders with competitive glee. The cider recipts piled up in the plastic case, and before long, the clock had struck nine, and I was free to sit on the benches outside with a fine jug of cider and a dragon fruit. We gathered there, and prepared to wander to 'The Party House', or 'The Void', as the kids were calling it these days.
In Budgens, me and wee little Tom took advantage of a three-for-a-£10 red wine offer, and strolled towards Lewes Road, where we instantly found ourselves in a crowded kitchen with electronica glitching its way around the house, together with Gareth all dressed up in a red blouse and black miniskirt and published play. Sam and hats and a rare glimpse of the Phone Master, who looked at us with great concern as to our well-being. Something was calling me. Where had everyone gone. I ended up taking the mic. O god. And the drums, it would seem. No more playing at being a musician. It was time for us to try and break into the animal graveyard.
Up an eight foot wall and down a 20 foot drop, falling through trees like a vehicle in Jurassic Park. Probably not the best idea. So we made like the laidback horse on the other side. Wizened and bearded! Back to the Void. I think I passed out for a bit at this point. Where did everybody go? Suddenly we were the only people in a deserted house. What time was it. Time to press on.
This time to another house with a basement full of musical equipment. Drum kit, keyboard, guitar. Somehow I hung onto my hat and glasses, but my Rabbi card seemed to vanish into the ether. Into the basement. I play improv muttering jazz. "Then help him!". Finding things to smoke. Me and Tommy make the aforementioned slinking blues number. I play the drums. Tommy finally rids the keyboard of Enya sounds. Upstairs, it's a beautiful day. Teddy is asleep. We go out. Stepping out into the light, not buying any health foods, we find ourselves with bananas for breakfast and a bottle of cherry coke. To the park. I play harmonica to a golden statue who shares my height. Maya wades through a circular lake with stepping stones. Tommy becomes a fusion of bicycle and tree and moustache and fine English gentleman and he rides from his cycle sheds in Preston Manor to enjoy a game of football with eager practicing youths. "Look at that little scamp!". Graveyards. Squirrels. Lying on the ground. A man performing unusual motions on a large area of grass in front of the haha. We rendezvous with Tommy for a picnic. Alex jogs past, bottle of water in hand, hair awry.
A bite of the fruit, some pecanned salt, and it is in a state of hyperactive disorder that I meet Anna at the foot of Southover Street. As my eyes flicker in Pavillion Gardens, I hear about Whale Rider. Sleep. I need to sleep.
The afternoon had been regailed with tales of Apple Day, of chickens bearing their sponge riders with competitive glee. The cider recipts piled up in the plastic case, and before long, the clock had struck nine, and I was free to sit on the benches outside with a fine jug of cider and a dragon fruit. We gathered there, and prepared to wander to 'The Party House', or 'The Void', as the kids were calling it these days.
In Budgens, me and wee little Tom took advantage of a three-for-a-£10 red wine offer, and strolled towards Lewes Road, where we instantly found ourselves in a crowded kitchen with electronica glitching its way around the house, together with Gareth all dressed up in a red blouse and black miniskirt and published play. Sam and hats and a rare glimpse of the Phone Master, who looked at us with great concern as to our well-being. Something was calling me. Where had everyone gone. I ended up taking the mic. O god. And the drums, it would seem. No more playing at being a musician. It was time for us to try and break into the animal graveyard.
Up an eight foot wall and down a 20 foot drop, falling through trees like a vehicle in Jurassic Park. Probably not the best idea. So we made like the laidback horse on the other side. Wizened and bearded! Back to the Void. I think I passed out for a bit at this point. Where did everybody go? Suddenly we were the only people in a deserted house. What time was it. Time to press on.
This time to another house with a basement full of musical equipment. Drum kit, keyboard, guitar. Somehow I hung onto my hat and glasses, but my Rabbi card seemed to vanish into the ether. Into the basement. I play improv muttering jazz. "Then help him!". Finding things to smoke. Me and Tommy make the aforementioned slinking blues number. I play the drums. Tommy finally rids the keyboard of Enya sounds. Upstairs, it's a beautiful day. Teddy is asleep. We go out. Stepping out into the light, not buying any health foods, we find ourselves with bananas for breakfast and a bottle of cherry coke. To the park. I play harmonica to a golden statue who shares my height. Maya wades through a circular lake with stepping stones. Tommy becomes a fusion of bicycle and tree and moustache and fine English gentleman and he rides from his cycle sheds in Preston Manor to enjoy a game of football with eager practicing youths. "Look at that little scamp!". Graveyards. Squirrels. Lying on the ground. A man performing unusual motions on a large area of grass in front of the haha. We rendezvous with Tommy for a picnic. Alex jogs past, bottle of water in hand, hair awry.
A bite of the fruit, some pecanned salt, and it is in a state of hyperactive disorder that I meet Anna at the foot of Southover Street. As my eyes flicker in Pavillion Gardens, I hear about Whale Rider. Sleep. I need to sleep.
posted by Rufus Moonshine at 6:38 AM
1 Comments:
budgens!
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