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Belldom; PG-15; stylish angst; feedback would be awesome; the summary: Dominic's having a writer's block
The Glorification of Just Another 4 Days of My Life
dedicated to L
Day 1.
Friday 23th, January 2009
I’m looking in the mirror after an attempt to write yet another exciting pre-album blog post.
I meant it to be witty, stylish and smart. Unfortunately, it turned out to be mostly boring, me endlessly ranting about nothing in particular and dusty like my mother’s old book shelf. I wrote about me and Matt hanging around town, then I wrote about a new book store near my house, then I wrote about Chris and then I pressed the “delete” button, giving up on the thought of being a writer.
Even a blog writer is just too much for me.
I’m looking in the mirror and I’m wearing a tie. I am dusty and boring, after all. Maybe I’m what I’ve always hated to become.
‘Why suddenly so serious, friend?’ Matt had said to me the day before yesterday.
‘I don’t know. I’m just not sure about the new stuff. I’m not sure about us. About me. About everything.’ I had replied, sounding quarrelsome and bitter instead of just looking indifferent.
The thing is, when nothing is wrong it’s even worse than when there’s some flaw. Some people call situations when nothing is wrong ‘perfect’, but I hate that word and it just doesn’t belong in here. Perfect situations only happen to perfect people, dressed in perfect shining clothes in their enormous perfect apartments.
Take the money and run, take the money……
“Maybe the golden years are over, “ I sat down in front of the screen and started writing again, “but it doesn’t mean I’m going to stop right now, this time, this place, this song. The fight is never really over before the fighter is dead, you know. And the timing might never be perfect enough to start doing something new, so maybe there’s a point in all this. Maybe there’s no point at all.
All my life I’ve been afraid to do something to upset my parents, then to upset my friends, then managers and now they all are loving me and telling me what to do.
Sometimes success is all about being rich & famous and having sensual starlets as your stalkers. And sometimes it’s all about the hardest work, doing a million interviews a day with that insane bright smile on your stretched lips. And sometimes the success you get turns out to be wrong and you suddenly find yourself wondering how it came to this. How did it come to you wearing a tie, like some self-centered New York broker, sitting in your $$$ apartment in London that has no furniture, but it does have a fireplace in the middle of the bedroom and those insanely large windows? “
I hit post and turn away from the laptop.
***
Day 2.
Saturday 24th, January 2009
‘I don’t like you being like this, ‘ Matt says, preserving the right words, but waving his hands in the air, trying to show me what ‘this’ means exactly.
‘Don’t, ‘ I say. I’m starting to use extremely short sentences instead of long rants.
‘Look, ‘ he says, leaning forward. We’re sitting at a Chinese restaurant. “We’ve got to let out the stream before we get all that industry bullshit again. We’ve got to take a break. What do you say?’
There were paparazzi outside my flat this morning. It was surreal; I’ve never had photographers following me anywhere except the stage. It wasn’t exciting or stunning. I was just really scared.
‘Okay. ‘ I don’t have either a desire or power to argue.
‘Great. Where would you like to go?’
Matt doesn’t have any problems with publicity. He’s not an awkward teenage boy with wild eyes anymore. His eyes are still deep-blue and pretty nice, but awkwardness/wildness is gone.
‘Umm I don’t know. The Philippines?’
We pack our bags the same evening.
***
Day 3.
The Getaway.
After consuming so much beer I thought I hadn’t had since college I make a decision. The decision is simple and pretty innocent. I’m just too drank to move and I decide to spend the night at Matt’s.
Matt’s apartment is quite big and bright. For a start, I’d like to tell you that it’s actually red. 5 of his walls are painted in dirty-red and he has all those extremely stylish black/white frames everywhere.
I’m lying on the floor, wasted and broken. I’m ripped off apart. I am the Sweetest Teenage Dream of my 15year old self. Apart from being ripped off apart, of course.
We kiss and drink more beer. Then we drink wine and the kisses become more delirious, hectic. My head is spinning and there’s white noise in my ears, but I wish I cared.
He takes both of my hands in his, rolls on top and we continue the kiss, deepening it. I haven’t done it for years. His lips are provocatively sweet, frantic, fast. There’s music in my head, turned on full blast and I’m starting to get high.
‘Love is a bit like shrooms, ‘ I used to write in my web-blog, ‘it gets you high and then leaves you lying on the floor or in bed, sweaty and abandoned. It’s not fair, it’s never fair and it’s always chaotic. It’s also unpredictable, that’s why you never know if you’re going to have a bad trip or the greatest pleasure possible.’
I get so high I’m practically looking at myself flying in the air, among the sparkling clowds. Matt’s saying something but I don’t understand a word as if he was speaking Chinese.
We’re having the craziest sex of my life on his wide black bed with crispy white sheets.
Day 4.
‘Hello everyone!
I’m listening to Lady Gaga and I’m lying on a beach. On a real one! Haha. I’ve been doing it for the last thousands of hours and I’m not getting tired at all. The sun is wonderful. Can’t tell you the location, you know. Privacy is a bitch at times.
Anyway, we got here this morning and I just wanted to tell you all how much I appreciate all the feedback you’ve been giving since I started writing this web blog. It’s just wonderful. I’m so used to it now and it can be quite helpful, like going to a shrink, doing it every week, usually the same day and time. I’m speaking NY slang these days and make Matt laugh all the time. Guess the return to Teignmouth did no good after all.
The album is almost ready, though the mixing’s still ahead. I don’t want to agitate you all yet, but I think it’s going to be big. In fact, I bet it’ll be huge.
Chris’s new kid is wonderful, they both called us today to tell how much they’re missing us already. I didn’t have the courage to tell them that we might be staying a bit longer than expected. This place is just too perfect to leave too soon.
I’m raising my Sex On the Beach cocktail for all of you and wish you… all of the best.
Dominic.’