Wednesday, July 06, 2011

The Pirate King would like his crown back now, please.

I am, apparently, the total King of Scavenge. Here's me, modelling (yeah, I'm a model, remember!) a hat and t-shirt that people had left abandoned in the mud at Glastonbury. The t-shirt is a bit of a bizarre one, it's really not something I'd normally wear, but it's great cotton and it's huge, so it's nice and cool in this stuffy heat and the hat's got a nice grungy vibe to it. I'm a bit surprised that people left them behind. But then, I'm amazed at people leaving boots behind in the mud.

On the last day, I had this massive seizure which, frankly, has scared the crap out of me a bit. Collapsing, twitching on the bus with about one hour totally missing and about three hours that I can't remember even though I was up and supposedly conscious is a bit horrible. The thought of how exposed and vulnerable I was, that I didn't even remember that I had bags until a long time after, let alone realise someone might have taken them made me insanely thankful I hadn't travelled alone.

So, just like the people who were fool enough to leave their spirit animals behind just because they got a bit muddy (what were they thinking - these things are endangered!), and the weekend warriors who walked out of their boots onto nails and needed tetanus injections (not like the guy who got the poppers burn from falling asleep with the bottle open in his jeans pocket and wound up with his jeans melted into his leg - how drunk or mashed was he?), I think I left something behind when I came back from Glastonbury.

Hello, you guys! How you doing!
(Loads of introspection, Star Wars quotes and surprises follow after the jump)

Seriously, though, how much ketamine must he have taken not to have noticed to have let his jeans melt into the side of his leg? The nurse I got chatting to said she had to send someone to the on-site supermarket to buy toothbrushes to try to scrape out some of the grit and fibres from the chemical burn. You learn the most amazing things when you start talking to strangers.

Anyway, things I left behind. Not just the sunhat I bought when it suddenly stopped raining and I got a burned nose. I think I've come back with a shorter fuse, having left a little of my willingness to protect other people before myself behind. It's been a little ugly over the last week, a little bit like all the tiny things I'd not said for a very long time that I'd kept stirring and churning in my heart have been spilling out.

A river of black bile, like a poison victim or a child undergoing an exorcism. What came out, so far from context, was jumbled chunks of distorted shapeless wounded hurt and anger, like some blind, chtonian Caliban, suddenly crawling hungry into the centre of a town.

What came out might have made sense had I just said something at the time, rather than catching those words as they rose and clipping them back, thinking I was protecting myself and the other person from pain; not realising that I was letting a garden of thorns slowly tangle around my lungs with the stubs of all these jagged things I'd never just cleared the air with.

It's a lack of respect for the strength of other people and there's an arrogance in assuming that because I know I'm strong enough to shoulder anything the world throws at me, I should just endure, and by enduring grow strong (as Dak'kon would say). After all (as Kreia would teach), when you kill the monsters to save the village, you get the XP, but no-one in the village levels up and you're being cruel in the long run. Protecting people from conflict ultimately helps no-one. She also said:

"It is all that is left unsaid upon which tragedies are built."

I think I'm totally down with that at the moment.

Oddly enough, in spite of coming away realising how much anger, grief and pain I've kept locked away inside me, I've also come back feeling myself a lot more (not like that, you bonobo hustler!) and I've got such a happy on. Perhaps that little death was exactly what I needed. A reboot. The rumbling low-level depression I realise I've been living under for the last year or two seems to be lifting at last.

As if I didn't need any further nudges that I needed to get all of that crap out of my system and focus on just being myself and doing my own thing, on Monday, I found these beautiful specimens.

Yup. That's right. Three in one day. Different finds, all meeting my rule of single pieces that I find in the street. It really is like someone's trying to tell me I'm on the right path. Or that they really like my tattoo. Both things work for me.

Anyway, this has been a very rambling little letter to myself, mostly about when Star Wars used to be good.

"It is only through interaction, through decision and choice, through confrontation, physical or mental, that the Force can grow within you."

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