Thursday, October 19, 2006

All the girls like a funny guy / somethin's changin' and I don't know why

Sunday 22nd October: Kill Devil Hills at The Tote. I would very much recommend you see this band. Insane swamp country rock blues folk. And shit.


I open the venetian blinds and impregnate my room with seeds of sunlight. I put on the CD that I was sent. I live at number six, it was sent to number seven. Yesterday I walked over the road and rang the doorbell and behind the screen door the suspicious suburban housewife with ubiquitous cigarette dangling from her life encrusted lips said, What? Hi, I replied, my name's Mattyb and I believe my friend may have sent a package to the wrong address, I live over the road at number six, if you happen to receive it, would you mind terribly dropping it over? No problem, she replied. The cigarette never left her bottom lip, and not one speck of ash fell from it. Ten minutes later she knocks on my door, a CD in her hand. Ah well see, my son has a friend called mattyb so we opened it and...

That's totally fucking fine, I reply. Thankyou so much for bringing it back.

So I listen to the song about drinking too much, and I listen to it LOUD.

This morning there's an unmistakable presence in my gut. So instead of coffee and cigarettes for breakfast I make bacon and drink tea and juice and approach the day one step at a time. I have a long weekend ahead. I have my bestest's Buck's Night tonight, after which I will have to DJ until 5am. The next night I'm DJing again until 3am, and the day after new favourite band play at The Tote and I'm taking a friend who really wants to see them but needs moral support as the gig is being promoted by her very recent ex. I promise her we'll drink whiskey, and I will make sure I look kind of hot so he won't know what the fuck she's doing. Sometimes, these things need to be planned.

But I'm doing all of these things and still the coccoons inside me begin to stretch and I can feel the butterflies getting ready. I don't know why today of all days. I just know they're there. And I either want to get naked and run down the street laughing, or pour myself a 10am Gin and Tonic. I do neither. I stay focused.

Yesterday my friend told me how something she put her heart and soul into has been hijacked by an artistic elite, stolen from her and is being taken overseas. She was fired from her own show. And I looked at her face and the emotion hidden within it and fumble bumbled jokes and puns to try and make her feel better. She asked me, What's wrong with me? Why don't they like me? What is it about me? And I tried to explain that some people are just cunts. And she knew that but wouldn't have it. Yes, but what's wrong with ME? Why don't they think I fit in? I couldn't answer, because I thought about it and if they can't work with an amazing brain like that, they're obviously a bunch of fucking art wankers. It made me sad.

And today's post is a stream, or maybe a kite skipping and dancing on the wind, because if I just keep writing the nerves will chill, I know they will.

Where's the freaking guru today.


I meet Yelza for a drink at the pub. He has his head in his hands when I arrive. He's quite a sensitive soul. A singer / songwriter. I say, what's up mister? I think many things, because there was a period in time at the start of the year when we both seemed to share the exact same problems. I wonder what could make him put his head in his hands now as I'd heard that his boat was in calmer seas these days. Thankfully, when he looks at me, his eyes are smiling, though his mouth remains hidden behind his whiskers.

I am a DICKHEAD, he laughs.

I know you are but what am I? I say, getting the joke wrong. Tell me...TELL MEEEEEE....

He tells me his story.

Last night I was working behind the bar, and I was a bit sad because you know, it's all over now with Chrissie and I miss her like crazy and shit. So I'm working, pouring one drink for the customers and one drink for me...

Don't so that shit, I say, trust me...

Ha, he laughs. Anyway all of a sudden this GORGEOUS girl walks in. I think my heart actually stops. I even giggled for no reason. She walks in and orders a drink and I pour it for her and smile and she smiles and it's there, no doubt. And I'm like, what the fuck? So anyway she starts playing pool and I'm watching her and everynow and again I see her gaze dancing past me, and tiny fireflies floating between us and I'm starting to get the shivers and so the next time she looks I hold her eyes in mine....beat....2,3,4,5,6,7,8....then I turn away. Now the feeling is in me, you know...

Oh trust me, I say, I know that feeling...

THEN. She walks over, pulls up a stool and we start to talk. And I'm ignoring customers even though it's a one man bar, and we're just laughing and smiling and flirting and it's fucking fantastic and she is like, drop dead my friend, and I knows and she knows and she leans over and...actually says...would you like me to make you breakfast in the morning?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I love it, people actually SAY THAT? That's fantastic!

Yeah, fantastic. Except...oh man...except for some reason....I reply....Sorry, I have to get up really early in the morning and I've got to work and...and as I'm saying this I'm realising my mistake, and I'm watching her eyes and it's like watching someone pour a bucket of water over a campfire, it's like I can hear the sizzle of smoking bracken and I try to fix it, I say, but you know, maybe another time and...and she just gets up, knocks back her drink and walks out the door.

I'm trying not to laugh, but I have to smile. Ah brother, I say rubbing his back, you are a genius. Absolute genius.

I order two beers, and we talk women all night long, happy to be two men in a pub.


There are two ways out. Walk or drive. And when I'm doing either of these things nothing can catch me. No man, no life, no problems, no sex, no drugs, no wine, no women, no fun, no sin...Haha. So I make sure I smell good, make sure I feel good, make sure what I wear doesn't give me that feeling when it's too late to turn back to my house that all of a sudden I'm uncomfortable or unattractive. I do these things, and start to walk, and the chillax wraps around me like a blanket under the stars.


  1. You sound stronger and happier than ever.

    Good for you.

    I'm sincerely happy for you matty.


  2. What was the cd? And what did she mean her son has a friend called matty b, did you not tell her there was only one fucking mattyb in this world and that was enough for all of us.

    See you tonight spunky.

  3. fuck those artistic elites can be bastards.

    i've had to do catch up, you're back in the saddle here and writing very well as usual (sorry I know you abandoned the cowboy, he is a bit trite, but I like cowboys. It's the horse thing).