1997 part 6 - The phone call in the afternoon was sweetness
When we did talk, from her it was of how possessive I was, how I was trying to restrict her freedom, how I kept telling her what to do but these were fractured, distant meanings cut with comedown. It wasn’t the real me doing all that it was the mad me, the crazy me, the inarticulate me, unreasonable, not understanding, illogical, irrational.Which brings me to the present and why I’m getting all this negative shit down on paper/blog so I don’t lay it all the woman I love and am seeming to destroy.
I’ve had a great crack in the record shop today. Even got a call from the catalyst inquiring about new records even though he owes the shop £70. I spent loads of the record shop owner’s money on three hundred pounds worth of deep house stuff with Anton from Hit distribution. Had visits from Johnny McHug, Pen (who bought a gospel tinged D&B tune from NY), Ben, who was in good form and sat and listened to everything new and spent twenty qui. We drank coffee and smoke a few sly spliffs and read Musik magazine and generally hung out while the rain reigned and Canterbury chugged to the beat of the feet of a thousand French teenage tourists.
Nick popped in at lunch time with a great ‘cheating’ chicken sandwich, a ‘9-Bar’ (hempseed and chocolate – lovely) and a can of fizzy water. The phone call in the afternoon was sweetness and now, as I close the shop and wait for her to finish work and come and meet me, we’re off to the Art College to dish out some flyers for an upcoming gig, have a drink and return home for that stir fry and wine that we didn’t have last night.
posted by DJCabbaged @ 1:40 pm
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