Lost Folks Week - 16/28 August 2003 / part 1
Dear Mrs R,
I've lost it, it was here just a minute ago but now I've lost it, it's lost, gone. I can't remember
what it was now but it was important, very important, I think it was important but I can't remember.
I can't remember what it was but I lost it, it's gone. Anyhow, it's lost. I think I remember having
it over there, maybe I think I could have put it down, possibly, over there. Then I might have come
back over here, after having maybe put it down over there, possibly. Then if I maybe went back over there and
found it wasn't there, that might be about right, but if I can't remember what it was and Iv'e forgotten
what I did with it, how do I know what happened? If I could think and remember what it was, that
would be half-way to remembering how and where it gost lost wouldn't it? Maybe not. Echoes of the thing
keep appearing and disappearing. Was it a big blue fish? Was it fried? Was it a sunset? Was it the ocean?
Was it a cloud? Was it a bucket full of vomit? Would you like a tissue? Are you there? That's it, I
remember what it was I lost, it was you, I mean me, I keep losing me and forgetting who and what
I am or was and then finding me again in some of the strangest places, when I stop looking for
what I forgot that I lost. Or somehow vomit my lost self, me, out into a bucket of sick and fag - butts
perhaps? Would I like a tissue? I would if I could wipe all this shite out of my mind with it, surely
I can't still love the fucking stupid bitch can I? I don't think so, feels more like anger and hatred.
Just gonna roll a little spliff then maybe a few extracts from my diary for a laugh, except these are
not a laugh, anything but, but it was real. I have looked into my mirror on the wall and not recognised myself,
not known who the fuck I was. Hello further. Cough.
18.4.03 - Feel bit better. Still sat here waiting for Life or Death or Madness or You.
19.4.03 - Not too good today, this is starting to get serious, I can't get her out of my head. She pulled me into her life then pushed me out again.
21.4.03 - Woke up in floods of tears. How long is it gonna take to get over this. I'm starting to lose my mind. In tears again, I can't handle this but I don't know what to do. I still miss her, I can't help it and I can't cope with it.
22.4.03 - Scarborough County Court, 10:00am. Went bankrupt.
24.4.03 - Lying cow. Fucking selfish bitch. I'm such a fucking stupid cunt. I hate what is happening to me so much and I hate being here. Getting ready to cut my arm again. Shite. Cut my arm.
25.4.03 - Trying to cope with being suicidal. Can't stop crying, don't know how Iv'e got thru the last 3 weeks, don't know how I'm getting thru each day. Alcohol and willpower... Really lost it, wrote suicide note. Music on too loud, pissed on vodka, brandishing stick of Dutch Elm, shouting, hitting the wall, passed out.
26.4.03 - Tried to get myself admitted to hospital but failed. Gonna cut my flesh in a different place / different pattern later 'cos I want to. I just want to die. Help Me. I'm a "Shit Shop". Vodka.
27.4.03 - Keith phoned emergency doctor for me 'cos he was worried about me. Went to hospital, saw psychiatrist, got some diazepam. This is all really terrifying stuff.
28.4.03 - Still feel physically ill when thinking of anything that reminds me of her. Managed to eat tonight. Did the cut again, fucking loads of blood, made lots of prints on paper. Enjoyed it, didn't hurt that much. Litre vodka.
29.4.03 - Sent her a postcard of Whitby telling her I still missed her, had imprints of my blood collaged on the front. Saw Dr. Lonsdale. Got more diazepam.
Woah there, that's quite enough of that, you get the gist.
The speed / vodka thing transmogrified into Folk Week and everything fell together nicely in that magical Whitby way. Fridges everywhere and whistlers whistling. I'd just got myself back into singing and playing and was ready to enjoy it all. Started using The Black Horse as the 'office' again. Best beer in town and the consensus is that we had the best atmosphere and the best music. Spent more time there than I did at home, one night some of us passed out on the benches in the back room about 7am and they went out for breakfast but couldn't wake me, I ended up walking back here at 10:30a.m.
A guy called Jerry who plays slide guitar put out enough of the right energy and we managed to get a Black Horse Blues Band together. We did 21st & 22nd in the yard next to the pub and it meant that the landlord had the front and back rooms full and up to 100 people in the yard. Happy landlord. I sang a bit and played banjo and guitar, Jerry played slide, Andy played his tea-chest bass and sang and contributed his own unique showmanship (he was also dressed as a pirate), plus two guys who's names I can't remember thru the alcoholic haze who just turned up and swapped double bass and guitar around and both sang. On Thurs this guy came out of the crowd and asked if he could sing a song with us and ended up doing half - dozen or so, bit of rockabilly, Pick a bale of cotten etc, then fucked off with his guitar to his next port of call. George joined us on Friday and it was even better, he played guitar and sang a few and Andy and I played a bit of kazoo trumpet too. On both nights when it was too late to play in the yard we moved into the back room, locked the doors and carried on giving it fucking rock. Played everything from Blue Suede Shoes to Tequila, Friday started with Sweet Dreams Baby by Roy Orbison appearing out of the ether in a funky blues style, Andy started singing it over the top of a warm-up blues rhythm, I joined in and with that we were off. Magic moments. Fri descended into a beautiful drunken mess of course but not without style, grace or wit and the cops turned up just as we were finishing about 12:15am because the silly cunts didn't know it was 12:00 closing.
There were some great guest ales on in the pub but it was so busy that no sooner did you get used to one then it was finished 'cos we'd supped it all. One called Cross Buttocks, two fucking barrels of that in one night just 'went'. There is a party there tonight for Kev, one of the barmen and after that I'm gonna cool it for a few days until the weekend 'cos it's been very little sleep and lots and lots of boozing. Still having vivid dreams and one morning about 8am when I tried to get some sleep everything was wobbling like fuck and it was like I was asleep and awake at the same time. It was a strange, hallucinatory state with lots of things flashing and I could see the room again as if in a delirium and kept dreaming that I was falling out of bed and hitting the floor. I kept bracing myself and realising I was still on the bed, everything was rocking like being at sea.
