The Twelve Days Of Christmas (abridged)

Something is slightly wrong with my picture of festive cheer and time for goodwill to all men. Even the battlefields took time out to observe a degree of civility towards each other if only separated by hours and trenches. My view of Christmas is the view as of every other year - a lonely one ether spent working or simply alone in a pile of pharmaceuticals wishing for turkey and stuffing, bucks fizz and toast for morning, truffles and mince pies, excess and the queens speech. Every year is slightly different in guise yet the context remains bleak.

I am spending my time shooting pool and necking beer at my friends gay club in one of the many satellite cities dotted around London. Its grim, cold and empty but at least the balls roll for me and i remain king of this little domain for a time period. King of Pool. the crowd goes wild....

There is an element of hiding involved which include the elements, the environment and the mess I am embroiled within and hiding in the last possible place anybody would look for me goes a long way to provide safety in way of a security blanket.

I light another cigarette away from the pub and in the office upstairs pumping drum and bass out of the heavy duty speakers hoping it will take over the noise that is already clouding all rational and reasonable thought. Why I ever entered into this I will never know. The full circle of the journey is steeped in irony which at least brings about a chuckle wandering around a city that seems more black and gay than anywhere I have ever known. Its a fitting stop off point.

With Christmas literally days away and pressure upon me to be alternative once more words are the one thing that have yet to fail me. These words... well they are the start once more of a story that will remain accompanied with a baseline and rain and of that monkey once more with a miniature cymbal.