The Gig

So anyway, I sat at home and make some dinner, a tagine of lemon chicken with olives, had a few more glasses of sherry that I got on the ferry last week and went to the gig. of course, the cunt at the door didn't know who I was and I wasn't going to pay in, not for Luke "sodding" Haines anyway, so I spent the evening listening to the gig through the air-conditioning out in the smoking area. Whelan’s is a terrible hole these days, really, but there was a few heads hanging around from the old days. They were all hey, how's the record, and "I hear you're writing a script" which kinda freaked me out, because it's a secret. a trade secret, if you will. I mean, there are people interested. I have this one guy in California, BUT I CAN'T TELL YOU HIS NAME, and I’d love to, believe me. So anyway, there were some cool kids at the gig, I says to Ollie Cole, you owe me a smoke, but ollies given up smoking or something. and the keyboardist from that band that were on the den last week, he owes me money cos I got the taxi one night.. anyway, he was blanking me, acting like I wasn't there. I basically just wanted to deck the fucker. I have to say, I think that sherry wasn't the mae west, as we say, I was feeling a little violent.

Barry was there, and Barry is a journo, and he's been struggling with his demons for a while now. we have a terrible conversation, because he's going "cold turkey" again.

"Dude," I say, sipping wine.

"Dude," he replies.

"How’s the addiction going?"

"I wish you wouldn’t make light of it dude."

"Light? I’m just concerned, concerned and sober, can’t you tell?"

"Jesus, H, I don’t know." He bums a smoke from me. "I don’t know."

"Life without drama is no life at all, dude," I say. "Schopenhauer said words to that effect."

"uh-huh," he says.

"Love bites, dude, "I say. "Joe Elliot said words to that effect."

"I know, dude," he says, "I know."

"You do, I can tell."

Rohan turns up, his shirt is open and he has on a gold necklace, a gold bracelet, a pinkie ring. His skin is dark, his hair is oily, he’s a Greek fucker. He winks at me. Rohan is my dealer, has been for years, from the acid years thru the e years to the high end class a years. He's good. of course, Rohan isn't his real name, ha ha ha. lol.

"Dudes," he says. "news?"

"Got any coke," I ask.

"Sure dude, you know I’m good." Barry is gnawing his knuckles at this stage, piling thru that pint of heino.

"Shit Baz, I forgot." I say and do like a Jesus face or something.

"You cunt."

"What ever." I say, and can feel that fizz of aggression again. I’d love to thump Barry, he's a self righteous tosser. I shagged his girlfriend once. she was ok.

"Dude, dudes, chill. Take a chill pill." Rohan waves some valium at me. I have to laugh.

"I’m not taking your mothers medication, Rohan," says Barry. "I need a smoke."

"Buy some," I suggest. "I Mean, with all the money you’re saving on coke…"

"Just leave it, H, it’s not a joke."

"It’s all a joke, dude."

"To you, maybe. To you."

"Look around, man, look at us. Is anything relevant anymore?" I should add that the place is full of fucking kids here. girls with flat bellies who'd tops don't meet their belts, you know. you can see their hips and their tramp stamp tattoos on their backs. little bitches.

"yeah, dude," says Rohan, "you’re like so September the 10^th," and he laughs with a valley girl affectation. "like, hello." He high fives me. I’m too fucking stupid not to met his palm mid-air.

"I’d love some Zappa now, "I say, to no one.

"Just leave the fucking drugs, will you?" Barry half shouts through clenched teeth. "fuck." He walks off, waddles off, storms off like a retard. Rohan and me go through some half arsed giggles.

"But seriously, dude," he says to me "drug addiction is a worry."

The scene in that place ages rapidly, like bowie in the hunger, and I’m up the stairs to the band room. I’m quite tanked at this stage. there's a guy there and he's all "can I help you" in a brit accent. and I’m saying, I have to see Luke. "Luke who" fucking HAINS retard, I say. you can tell he wants to deck me. I walk past him and kick open the door. OI HAINES, I shout "you're a fucking dead man". Haines is a little shit, looks terrified. I have no idea why I’m doing this. The bouncer grabs me, half throws me against the wall, so I half land my knuckles onto his face. he's just some jobsworth tourmanager fuck, and he doesn't want trouble, so I kind of leave him there on the ground holding his chin and I look into the room at Haines and I just point my finger at him and mouth the words "dead"

I split pretty quick cos I want to come back tomorrow and piss in the jimmy cake's pockets while they're on stage.