XI: Stevenaged


I have just invented a new adverb – stevenaged. This entails meeting a mad group of birds from Stevenage who get you high, laugh a lot reyt loudly, drink you under the table, & then… you know the rest. The first one I met – Helen – is lovely – & also married. There’s a theme developing to this trip I think. However, divine providence has got in the way of any shennanigans – twice. The first time was the other night, when she passed me a charas joint at hers & I had my first sick-surf whitey in a long time, swiftly rushing from her pad to fall asleep in the road – the irony is I was only ten seconds from my own pad. The second intervention was when I was ‘intercepted’ by her lady friend on her last night before going home to the blizzards. Suffice it to say I needed two days to recover, the sole poetic product of which was my new word, ‘stevenaged’ – its not an experience for the faint hearted believe you me.

Anyhow, Helen, my neighbour, is a great lassie & I’m currently at hers typing up some sonnets (see below) to the Stone Roses. Also here is my mate Kern. I’ve only met him twice before. The first time was Haloween 2009, when my band drove up to Aberdeen to play his house party. We made a film about the trip & our literal first meeting – with him dressed-up as vampire – is on you tube. Our second meeting was when he came down to Kijiji & played his trumpet / dance set – which was also filmed & should be ready when Steve has finished editing our Saraswathi Summer film. So, there I was, wandering down Arambol beach, when there he was – so let the games begin. We’ve already had our first jam session – it was this open-mic night at a lovely restaurant, hosted by what can only be described as a NYC cab driver. There were some great acts on – it was like this quality international jamboree – Russians, Africans, Americans & me doing rabbie burns tunes. Arambol’s great by the way – like a mixture of Goa & Gokarna. The night life is buzzing & there’s some beautiful coastal walks to tranquil beaches. I’ve been taking this very handsome black dog that my landlords own on my wee passagios. I ca’nt bear to see it on a chain all day, so I’ve been struttin the beach with him, disturbing all the strays who hang about for free food. I’ve also been taking it along the main shopping street, where for once I don’t get disturbed at all by the cowering shopkeepers – trust me, the dog is that big. The English girls I met down Palolem are also here, raving every night on a wide variety of drugs. We’ve even got this nineteen-year-old Los Angeles art student squatting at our pad. We’d befriended her & her mate – whose flown off to Spain for a couple of weeks to see her dad – & for some reason she’s loving mine & Charlie’s patter. I’d love to go on, but this black acrobat guy from Kenya’s just dropped off some crack with Helen, I’ve just fixed a bloody mary up, I Am The Ressurection has just come on the tunes, & so for the second time this year * I’m thinking it’ll be too rude to toot.




* The first time was when I visited Charlie down Brixton, who was so enfatuated with ketamine Karen he was buying – & trying – her crack

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