finally i get a chance to play 'songs from the real world volume 2' although i must confess i played it in my car on my night drives through dense fog and heavy night but i have not played it in my ritualistic setting, candle, incense and spliff until tonight, and i must confess, i loved my drives but now my brain is immersed. i won't write a review because they seem pointless but i do feel inspired to write something, so here's my offering in lieu of the review, stimulated by amazing music and steve's voice...
italian coastline, some sleepy village, you were in that wide brimmed hat and big shades, hiding from the world and i was just beginning to enjoy being in it again.
you were the smartest sexist girl, completely independent and far from any maddening crowd, i was kinda infatuated and foolish, like a boy i guess.
you were just to cool for skool, smoking weed for breakfast and reading me some japanese nihilistic philosophy in the shade, waiting for coffee to come.
that place was off the beaten track girl, we must have stumbled upon it on auto pilot, neither of us could remember anything about how we got there but when we awoke to find ourselves in a cheap cosy hotel room we knew it was a good thing, wracking our brains trying to figure it all out.
'i can't even remember anything... i was getting on a ferry and then i woke up with you...'
'same, i was on a ferry, not even sure where i was leaving from...and then... i'm here.'
we didn't even know were in italy until we called room service.
'yeah must off, i wouldn't waste an opportunity like this.'
'oh! fucking hell!'
i shrugged my shoulders and smiled, 'let's get some coffee.'
you looked a bit stunned, i could see you processing your options, that whimsical brain, fleeting from one tangent to the next in some extraordinary spiderweb of neurone transmissions.
'yeah great idea.'
so we showered, dressed and hit the street, not even knowing what lay outside.
a quiet italian crossroads with a coffee shop opposite the hotel, on the other, a beautiful coastline view and the northern corner a road meeting the horizon.
it was perfect.
we sat outside in the shade of an umbrella, you fixing your face and looking in a small compact mirror. i noticed the book in your bag.
'what's the book called?'
you pulled it out and showed me. a pretty beat up, dog eared copy of 'the self overcoming of nihilism' by nishitani.
i flicked through it. and commented on the fact that even no meaning to life is a meaning.
we must have sat there for an hour just waiting for coffee to arrive as you read me a chunk, flawlessly, speaking with the kind of conviction i thought you must have written the very words yourself. but that was just you, doing everything with such great passion, i ended up just watching you move and the words became music. a waiter came with coffee, the coffee was very good.
i don't know, it may have been hours, the sun moved a bit, shadows got longer and refections softer.
time really should not be told at all or in the measure of spliffs as, almost three spliffs later we changed the subject and started opening up about ourselves.
'i'm not really anything, a traveller, confused, bewildered and hunger for experience.'
'you will always be that just like i will always be filled with life, energy and enthusiasm for living. i really do want to suck the marrow out of life itself.
'well i guess we should get back to the hotel and make the most of it.'
we laughed, and went back.
when i awoke you had left, i called your name but saw your stuff had gone so i fell back asleep in a sort of angry frustrated stupid churlish way.
later i noticed you had left me your book, which i still have. you signed it for me with the inscription, 'loved sucking the marrow with you x'
you had also rolled me a joint which i thought was extremely gracious.
i must have laughed, slowly throwing my gear into my travelling bag. walking down the steps back onto the street, in the evening, heading for the coast road, knowing you would have taken the north.