Persian Love Saved Me

...not really sure where or when or what had happened in the past three hours; it must be late because the sand and water at th sea edge (where's the sea?) are making mirrors, reflecting the lights from the road and the University of Swansea but not making any sense at all... it must be late because I can feel my skin stretching itself out around my eyes, trying to deny sight (who wants to see this anyhow?)...

a few hours ago I was in London, listening to Abendigo's whitehouse/plastikman hybrids, wondering at the sonic capabilities of those little electronic bike horns that can change your voice, wondering at how far you could actually go with a Yamaha RX 7 (we managed a few Foetus-like orchestral manglings, an aphex-lite bouncing ballpop or two) but that seems very long ago now because that
was
before i decided to drain my pockets of drugs to ease the long train ride home, that was before i bought some Thai Fuckballs of hash from the guy in the bogs at the station, that was before I left my book (70s version of The Magus - ha!) somewhere and realised that 4hrs on the train with only my sane mind for company would pass for eternity...

That was before i took the Thai Fuckballs inbetween a nice sweet curry bun from the Chinese where the guy has the kind of stare that shouts at deaf people.

Now I've lost my shoes, I might be wet but it's hard to tell; everything is hard and cold. There's no one else around, not even the moon. The blinks and flares of Port Talbot steelworks seem to be beckoning me but it only takes one look at the sand - with it's terrible Mandalas and portents of doom - to realise that that is not going to be a good way to go...

For a second I think one last time about running into the sea - at least finding it - and hoping for the best.

I turn back, dazed, confused and still barefoot and end up wandering around the halls of residences, trying to explain to someone, anyone that I've just taken something that didn't quite agree with me and can't now remember the number of my room... I keep thinking one of my ears is bleeding but no one I know is around and everyone else seems utterly redundant...

Is there a doctor in the house?

Eventually, i remember my own room number and lie on the bed, ears still bleeding, heartbeat working its way up towards my eyes, where it sits bleating... the black and white TV is clearly colour again (it does that when it takes drugs) and the noise is unsettling so I flick the sound down and press play:

Holger Czukay - Persian Love

A Yousendit Lifesaver

which seems to calm me down more or less instantaneously. Normally it's a voice that has this effect - I've been drawn back from the abyss a number of times by a soft female voice, on tape or in reality - but this time it's not the samples as such, more the little crappy, almost insignificant chord progressions because they-seem-to -speak of a gentler existence, children playing, soft grass, happy smells away from all this nasty synaptic snapping, away from all this self-imposed chaos...

It's probably just me but my ear stopped bleeding as well...

I haven't played this track since that time, now the better part of 20 years ago but I found it again recently and decided that perhaps that was for the best. If it had any power - and i can't work it out now - then maybe I should hold some pack for the next time...

Still never found out what the hell Thai Fuckballs are either; how easily information slips away...