A draft for a drafty day

Yep another draft. Typically wrote it a while ago, based on a time even longer ago, then re-looked at it over the summer, sat on it, let it ferment for a bit and now here it is, in audio draft from anyway.

Montage

   

You wake up. 

You walk into the bathroom.

You’re wondering what’s happened to your mate.

Your best mate.

What’s changed?

You aint seen him in days.

You look in the mirror and wonder

What’s happened to your face.

What’s changed?

You aint shaved in days.

Another line in your forehead appears.

The gears in your imagination

Begin to grind

The light in your mind flickers and

The film reels begin to rotate

Que motage.

ColdPlay plays.

Your mate and his girl.

Arm in arm walks in the park kicking up leaves.

Feeding ducks in the pond.

Trips to the sea.

Trips to art galleies.

Joint shopping trips to Gap and H&M

His and hers hers and his

Sharing friends over drinks

Mates are now friends freinds are now ours ours aint his, ours aint you

Dinner parties!

Dinner parties using recipes taken from celebrity chefs

Expensive A4 hardback conveniently rests on the clinically clean kitchen surface

Strategically placed to make it look like it wasn’t placed to imply taste

Sunday afternoons in gastro pubs

Or in starbucks

Drinking from huge coffee mugs held with two hands then taking selfies

Cheesy trinkets and cutlery

Amalgamating diaries

Middle ground cd’s

Middle ground dvds

Middle ground being

Feeling like carpet under your feet

Hiding the cold hard damp scarred floor boards underneath

Where skeletons of single x friends lie recluse

For choosing to refuse to wear shoes in place of trainers

In order to gain entry into cheesy venues

Continuing to smoke week

Consume lager watch football and smash keebabs

Listening hip hop and underground dance music

Still rebelling against chart music

Still laughing when farting

Still openly honest about porn use

Still treading water in an ocean of self-loathing where the

Only humane feeling that remains is the pain from getting salt in the wounds

Still complaining about the day to day pursuit of pay

and feeling unfulfilled, that grates like an

itch you can never quite reach between the shoulder blades.

Lacking the kind of companion that will scratch it and relieve it.

Then embrace you for all your insecurities, idiosyncrasies and imperfections,

and tell you that it will all be ok.

Chuckling in your ear, stroking your hair, kissing you on the cheek then walking away, leaving her sweet perfume in the airspace

as you look in the mirror, see your face, think of her and think shit,

lifes alright.

Instead you see your face

Your muggy unshaven face

And you think of your mate

And you hope the prick is happy.

 

Another blast of a draft of something...

Greetings. Been toying with this for the last month or so.Continuing with the series I've been putting up. Gonna stick it up and see what happens. Sometimes just sticking a peice up onto a different format; ie this blog, can allow me to view the thing with a fresh pair of eyes. Let's see what happens eh. Enjoy

HMS Kiss Draft 

So me and my best mate Rich are standing are at the front of the ship.  This pretty big, de-commissioned, Royal Navy destroyer ship called HMS Bristol. There’s probably a proper Navy name that I should be using, instead of front of the ship, some muggy navy like shaft or something. There seems to be some wacky Navy name for everything in cadets. Most of which I can’t ever remember. Even the toilets are called the heads. Heads? Who comes up with this shit!? Head has come to mean something a lot different by the time I’m 14! Mind you, Rich reckons he got polished off in the youth wing  toilets once by Gareth’s cousin, though he’s probably bullshitting. 

Rich loves all this cadet stuff. Right now he's playing it cool, leaning on the edge of the boat, back to the water, one boot on the rails, taking it all in, enjoying it, smoking a sovereign cigarette but I swear he’s not taking it down. I’m bent over, hanging on to the rails, shaking, looking down into the dark merky water of Portsmouth harbour, wishing  that Trident, or something, would burst up out of the blue and haul me down into a magic coral-underworld, where I’m taken captive  by some buff mermaids who sing mad 10 part harmonies’ and hold me in a giant sea shell next to some weird undulating s plants.  Away all from this embarrassment, and away from all the prying eyes burning holes in the back of this uncomfortable uniform I’ve got on.

 I just got asked out! By a girl!  Who I thought yesterday, when I first stepped on this boat with all  the other cadet kids, was about 17, and fit! Turns out, she’s also 14. And she’s a senior cadet, whatever the fuck that means. Her name’s Laura. She’s got straight  black hair in a bob and wears red lipstick. Big  brown eyes,  smokes Bensen and Hedges cigarettes. And Laura is fit. She was fit yesterday and she’s even fitter now and she just asked ME out, just now, in front of all the other kids, on this big grey arse knackered looking Navy ship. Stuff like this, doesn’t really happen, ever!

Problem is, since getting on this boat, me and Rich have done  well too assert ourselves as the geezerz that we are and should be universally recognised in being. Letting these other kids know that we’re no mugs, we’ve got a bit about us, but we’re alright. Rich even bought his Ralph jacket and he’s wearing it over his uniform! If I had a Ralph jacket, I’d be doing the same. Just today, me and Rich were schooling some of these  cadet melts  about how to spot a fake Ralph; 

‘If there aint double stitching on the label, then someone’s mugging you off!’

These geeks know, that we know, about some real geezer stuff, like football, and how if you twiddle with the flame adjuster, you can turn them cheap florescent cigarette lighters into mini flame throwers. Yea, that’s right. Geezerz.  At school, we can’t really pull it off, we get called Beavis and Buthead,  but on this boat, we’re like the Kray Twins or something!  Most of these kids are pussies, but unless I step up and snog this girl, who I really fancy, I’m about to blow all that hard work out the water, quite literally. 

Everyone is standing around, looking in my direction, waiting for me to say something. Each one of these thoughts and feelings wizzing around inside of me  is like a torn up piece of confetti that’s just been tossed up in the air and I’m desperately scattering round on the floor trying to pick them up, hoping that no one sees the mess.

‘er, I dunno, like,… maybe yea;’ 

Was what I came back with, whilst immediately turning round to lean on the rails, feeling like an instant bellend. That feeling that only girls seem to have access too, switching it on and manipulating it whenever they they want, as if there’s an invisible red button in my belly that only they have the codes too. Rich askes me if I’m alright;

 ‘Na mate, I feel ill, I must be like, sea sick or something.’

‘Sea sick?! This boat don’t move mate. It hasn’t moved in years. It stays in the harbour.’

‘yea, I know, But it does  move a little bit,  like rocking back and forth and that, tides and that , doesn’t it?  I dunno ,I  just aint feeling right.’

Rich looks at me and smiles; ‘You’re nervous aren’t ya?’

‘No!’

 ‘It’s alright bruv, it’s your first time yea..’

‘No, no  it aint! you know it aint!  I told you, loads of times, that girl, Lousie, from Church, remember? I got on her loads of times mate, Frenchie’s and everything, I even got feel ups after Confirmation class once.’

‘Lousie?’ …

Rich is grinning again, whilst pretending to rub a beard on his face.  I don’t know where this came from, but when someone says ‘itchy beard’ after you’ve just claimed something, and mimics rubbing their face, as if there’s a beard there,  it means they think you’re lying. It’s really, really annoying, especially in a tense sensitive moment like  this one.

‘Na mate, it’s true!’

Rich takes  a drag of his fag, he defintlaey doesn’t take it down.

‘Look…just say yes and get off with her her innit...she’s fit’

‘yea I know, but what if..…..’

‘What? What if what?!’

‘..What if I fuck it up?’

‘You sure you aint done this before?’

 ‘Yea, course! Lousie!’

‘Lousie.’

‘Yea Louise, from church.’

Max Power draft

New bit of work here. Max Power. After sticking it up, I'm already makaing edits. Don't normally stick drafts up, but I realsied recently that in many ways I'm pretty bad for getting into lazy habbits and not wantning to chanage anything. So, here it is in raw form;

Max Power

Friday night

10:45  

A quiet country lane.

2 windscreen wipers dance 

2 young males get out the car and survey the scene 

A brand new blue fiat punto,

Crashed into a tree.

Max Power sticker on the back window.

Bumper hanging off,

Number plate dangling like a partially severed limb

There on the corner of the road,

On a windy country lane

unaware of the police cars approach

 Half a mile away

6 o clock that evening and I'm at home. 

Responding to a text from my best friend Rich

Telling him that I'm not coming out to the pub. 

Instead I'm gonna meet Mo and the other boys for a smoke.

They don't like Richard, and

I think Richard knows. 

7 o lock that evening and I'm sitting with Rich in the crown.

6.45 Richard pulled up outside my house.

Brand new blue fiat pinto,

Max Power logo on the back window.

Garage pumping 

1 pint won't hurt he says.

I coudkant say no

He wheel spins out my drive way

And minutes later were in the crown

He's new girlfriend clarissa is there.

She's the best freind of his ex girlfriend Gemma. 

The ex he said he was engaged too,

the 3^rd engagement in the space of a year

never any sign of a ring though

Gemma's now going out with his Richards new mate Tony 

Tony and Gemma are sat next to Richard and clarissA

And I'm in the middle of

What appears to be a poor im imitation of hollyoaks 

Taking big sips on a pint of carling 

Which goes down my gullet like a Brillo pad scraping  the back of my throat 

I figure the quicker I can get to the bottom Iof my pint

The quicker I can go.

7:15 pm

Richard and Tony are talking cars.

Clalirssa and Gemma are sat either side

like two queens lining up on a chess board

looking bored

Mo texts me and asks me where I am 

Half an hour away I say

The boys are in the usual place 

A little country lane behind some fields

Right at the back of town 

And away from the crowds

7:30 pm,

I just get to the dreg sin my pint  and Tony shoots up and says my round 

Shit, he’s quick

Before I can even say na I'm alright Tony he's at the bad rordering another round

I look at Richard and I can see he's ignoring me whilst he plays with Clarissa's hair 

8:45 and I’m still there

3^rd pint in and I'm starting to think actualy this aint all that bad

Clarrisa's cousin Alice has arrived,

and Rich punched me in the thigh lifitng

his eyebrowa  nodding his head

when got he up to go the bar.

I've got 2 missed calls from Mo

when Rich retunes to hand me pint number 4

10:pm and Aclice has left to

go and meet her boyfreind,

Rich says he forgot to mention she was taken

how convenient I'm thinking

outside Tony and Gemma Are arguing

Gemma reckons Tony’s flirting or something

10:30 I text Mo and say im about to leave

I tell Rich Im gonna get a taxi

when outside I hear a scream

as Tony is trying to separate Clarisa from scratching Gemma

and Gemma from scartching Clairrsa

Richard goes flying out and someone gets a called a bitch

then Tony wacks Richard in the face,

Clarrisa storms off

I grab Richard round the waist and march him to his car

With him still facing Tony and Gemma

Arms out wide hurling abuse

We get in his car and he says take me to Mo

I need a spliff

before I know it he's wheel spinned out the car park

blasting out genius crew

and im thinking don’t blas genius crew

you look like a dick

whilst im frantically starping in my seat belt.

Bititng my lip

Rich is driving like a prick,

right up the arse of a car in front,

slow down bruv I say

theres no need for that

he ignors me and just turns up the music louder

which is all trebble and little bass

Says he fitted the sound system himself

And I think yea mate I can tell

we clear the traffic in town,

through the neighboureds and out into the fields round the back

'Rich the bend is just coming up, slow down bruv your gonna miss it.'

'Shut up I know what im doing'

'slow down your gonna miss it'

'I said the shut the fuck BOSH!'

10:45 pm. Friday night

2 windscreen wipers dance 

me and Rich stumble out the car and survey the scene 

His brand new blue fiat punto,

Crashed into a tree.

Bumper hanging off,

Number plate dangling like a partially severed limb

Right There on the corner of the road,

On a that windy country lane

I phone Mo and tell him im with Rich

and that were gonna need a tug

Marc pauses, tuts

and I hear him mumble 'for fucks sake'

then says he's on his way.

I turn back to my mate Rich,

and think mate?

Why am I still mates with you\?

In the distance I see a blue light

I look at him looking at his car,

Max power sticker on the back window

 and think

maybe, just maybe,

when the smoke goes,

 this might just be a good thing.

©Paul 2015