This is our truth, tell us yours
The one where Carter reaches for the ear plugs and Jem cheats horrendously
This seems to have become chronological for some reason. So, to continue in that vein, we left our heroine in the thrall of unrequited love, and realising that being a small town girl was never going to work. Is it too much of a queer cliche to say I ended up in London, searching for something?
Belonging has been the backing track to my life, and in a strange way I found it in abandoned georgian villas, warehouses, former lazer quests, basements clubs and a small white pill which said it was OK to love. Perhaps the streets captured the process of E better than anyone, the moment from first rush to being blinded by the lights.
Its hard to talk about the high points of your youth without becoming another cliche, the “everything was better in my day” one. This was a time pre cream though, when the sunday social was genuinely a social, when on the last night of sabersonics the DJ stood at the door and gave everyone a mix tape.
The Djs were our gods, false idols most certainly but no worse for that. As clubs attempted to cash in on this thing that was happening spontaneously nights like Escape To Samsara were started. Our ragtag group would turn up, knowing we would start and end the night together, and the adventure along the way was as shared as it was individual. A story from EST probably sums up the attitude to DJs. I was in one of the many chill out rooms, Mrs Wood was playing and I was being massaged by a stranger who was a friend for a few short hours. A girl, her face a bouquet of flowers came up to me and said “someone has lost their purse” holding it out to me in both hands. The solution was obvious, “give it to the DJ” and it went round the room, accompanied by the refrain of “give it to the DJ”.
Of course I know they probably pocketed it, I was higher than the shard and floating on chemical love, but so was everyone else in the room.
There were so many songs I could have chosen for today, but one was obvious, one which I would listen to coming down, smoking a spliff, feeling the ache in my legs, and drifting away, finally feeling I belonged.
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