Emerging like a majestic gorilla from the mist, like the lost city of Atlantis rising from the depths, like the return of Amelia Earhart, like that scene in Toy Story where Buzz actually flies when he’s strapped to the rocket at the end (sorry for spoilers)! It’s the final page into the troubled mind of Jee Jee Rasloots!
Dear Diary,
Its been 30 days and 9 hours since the tour ended. I haven’t been the same since…
Beer now tastes bland to me. The warm embrace of the duvet at night no longer clears the chill from me nethers. The routine of morning alarm clocks and dreary treks to work numb my brain, making me feel dull and an ever impending dread that my march on in life is leading to a vast empty nothingness hangs over me. I stare blankly at the sea of commuters on the tube lines, the flashing of the tube train lights across their faces mimicking the spotlights as they illuminate the crowd, I stare, hollow eyed, as I replay the swirling sounds of feedback and distortion, desperately trying to picture the moments before a gig, hopelessly attempting to feel that adrenaline rush of the stage, to feel the tingle in my fingers before the first notes, to feel the buzz as the cymbals crash and the bass rumbles to life, desperately yearning to feel anything at all. The sweet, innocent, naive boy that embarked on those whirlwind two weeks is no more. A harrowed, hollow, unfeeling man now stands in his place, towering and shrouded in the milky dark of the world.
But toady’s me birthday and I might get cake and a call of me Ma! So swings and roundabouts I suppose.
Lots of love,
John Slattery