Astral Asbos

Oh good grief, I’m disintegrating and I’ve only been back from holiday a few days.  I got psychically mugged at the pub the other night and then last night I went on a total bender on the astral.  Lucid dreaming doesn’t half take it out of you.  I can’t complain as it was fecking awesome in every witch way but really I’m shattered and aching all over and I’m half-expecting the psychic police to come  banging at the door any moment and issue me with a warning.  Can you get an astral ASBO? 

The house is mayhem. The bags are still in the hall, half-emptied; dirty clothes in clumps making their way slowly towards the washing machine. Random men keep appearing at the door and asking random things or giving me random parcels and really I haven’t a clue what they want as the dogs are barking so loudly and my head is in another time entirely.  So I’m smiling and signing and probably selling my soul or buying a time-share in Milton Keynes or something.  My PC is behaving like a memory-challenged OAP and I’ve got my iPod on shuffle and, as I can’t ever be arsed to organise my music into types, it’s segueing from The Black Eyed Peas to Syd Barrett to The Killers to Hildegard of Bingen.  Every so often Art Giser pops up and warns me that I need to sort out my prosperity mentality (yup, Art, I know, I know - I'm working on it, alright?  Cut me some slack). 

Was I really in Turkey just a few days ago?  That's a surreal thought.  I lived on watermelon and baklava for a week as the hotel’s idea of vegetarian food was cold Brussels sprouts in curry sauce. Yeah, that’s what I thought.  I’m not a fussy eater but there are limits.  Actually I need to start eating a bit more carefully.  One or two foodstuffs a day does not a balanced diet make.  Yesterday was golden beetroot and Turkish delight; today it’s carrots and Victoria plums. 

Anyhow. Onwards. The SP needs a walk – I can see him out of the window tugging desperately at a long bramble.  Bless his heart, he’s obviously trying to weed the garden – but it’s past redemption.  James has gone to Taunton and Adrian is in St Albans. I’m supposed to be polishing off my columns but they’re all blurring into one.  Maybe I’ll try out Barbara Ford-Hammond’s new meditation download – Power Nap.  Or could I just be totally decadent and go back to the astral for a gentle afternoon frolic?

Oh, and I nearly forgot… The Sea Bands behaved impeccably and, despite long transfers along windy roads, neither James nor I felt remotely sick (despite inhaling industrial quantities of sweets courtesy of CandyKing).  I will be posting off bands to Sage, Jane and Solange... 

PS- this is hilarious - if you Google "Astral Asbo" you find a ton of pictures of Asbo Jack.  Fact. 

Journeys

I can’t sleep again. This time, though, it’s different. I fall into bed at about 1am and crash, only to wake up at 2.30am with my brain fizzing. It’s like my body and mind are recalibrating themselves. I can’t eat either: just don’t feel like it. All in all, I really do think I’m going ever so slightly crazy.


I’ve given up the booze again. I do it periodically. It’s not like I drink a huge amount anyhow. I stopped drinking wine quite some time back so a stray bottle the other night was a bit of a shock to the senses.

‘But all writers drink,’ said a friend. ‘Or take drugs.’

It reminded me of my first attempt at writing a novel, back in my early twenties when I went to live in the USA. My brother gave me a bottle of a gin and a bag of dope. ‘Disorder the senses,’ he said.

Mine were disordered enough already – by the crashing waves right outside the house; by playing Bach so loud it echoed around my ribs; and by doing way too much esoteric wandering. I could see the auras of trees, of the dogs running after my bicycle – and that was all before I touched a drop of gin.

The book, needless to say, was absolute garbage. But I had the best time. Did some courses in neurolinguistics; pondered teaching ESL; gave up the idea. Spent a lot of time in art galleries and museums; got a serious gym habit; met some great people; never did get much of a tan. 

Travelled straight across the US from Cape Ann, driving west for three days and nights solid, chasing electric storms on trans-state highways. Three of us took it in turns to drive; took it in turns to sleep; took it in turns to keep the one driving awake. Had a blow-out at 80mph, and discovered that time really does slow when adrenalin kicks in. Got pulled over for cat and mouse racing with a Trans-Am. Passed by cities in the night. Diverted to the Badlands because, shit, you have to see the Badlands.  When we reached the coast in Washington state, we kicked off our shoes and ran down to the beach, sat staring in wonder at the sparkling sea – marvelling that it was a different ocean.

We camped in redwood forests and rode with cowboys in the panhandle of Texas; ate wholemeal muffins in hippy cafes in Northern California and sushi in sterile restaurants in LA. My soul shrank from Vegas, so much that I couldn’t leave the motel room. But it soared in San Fran, smiling at sea otters, laughing and swapping dresses with drag queens. Had the biggest fight ever at the Grand Canyon. Gazed at landscapes so large, the horizon curved. Felt tiny, a speck on a small planet spinning in a vast universe which was spinning in infinity.  Felt the dry air of the desert blow over my skin and soothe my soul.

God, I miss the States. God, I miss that freedom.

But, if one can’t travel outwardly, one can still travel inwardly. And I’m plunging down astral pathways, frantically searching. I can see something ahead of me and it's just ever so slightly out of reach.  I run and run and see a glimmer as it chases round a corner.  It’s a multi-dimensional maze, a crazy labyrinth. It’s like life’s been on hold for years and now I’m suddenly waking up.

I know that sounds crazy; it probably is crazy. It’s scary as hell but it feels horribly right. Even the not sleeping bit. I’m writing this at 4.30am. I’ve been awake for two hours. I’ve read a book already and my eyes are red sore. I’m shaking, as if all my cells were being rearranged, being put back into the right order. And I have no idea what happens next.

Weirdly, it feels good.