The Noise Made By People
This time I didn't muck around trying to reason with drunk people - I just called the police, told them that there was a lock-in at the pub across the road, that there was a lot of shouting (there was - huge amounts of bellowing over the PA) and that I was concerned, as the last time this happened, there was fight, with broken glass all over the neighbourhood. (OK, I didn't mention that last time, I was involved in the fight, but it's still a matter of police record that there was one.)
It's just so frustrating, though. They sent a police van round. I saw flashing lights and heard slamming doors. But when I poked my head out, 5 minutes later, the van was just sitting there outside the pub, and the noise had not stopped.
I can't exist without sleep. I wish I were one of those people that could get by on 4 hours a night and catch up at the weekend, but I'm just not. I learned long ago that there are some very basic things that will eliminate or at smooth over at least half of the symptoms of my bipolar disorder. Regular sleeping patterns, regular eating patterns and regular exercise patterns. Regular sleeping is the single most important one of those three. My mind looses structural integrity when I go without sleep - and that doesn't just mean I get a bit spacey and a bit sleepy, it means I cannot function on the most basic level.
What this means is, basically, I can't go out tonight. Which sucks. I've been looking forward to this gig for months. However, I bought a ticket for it before discovering that Lindstrom would not even be going on until 2am. I can understand dance clubs that operate on that timescale, but for fucks sake - why would have a *gig* start at that time of the morning? If I were in a better place, moodswing-wise, I might risk it. If I'd had enough sleep last night, I might risk it. With the combination of the two, I have to be an adult, and I have to make the judgement call not to go.
So yet again, I have to miss a rare live performance by one of my favourite artists. I fucking hate my brain sometimes.
I'm going to try *not* to spend the whole day writing today. I need to get out, need to interact with human beings and nature and things, instead of shiny silver machines. Of course, I say that now, but "not writing all day" means I'll end up spending the weekend working on the music I've been neglecting for the past month. I've got that odd Turkish Disco track I did with my sisX0r a month ago, to mix & finish. I've got songs, sounds, textures rippling around in my head that I need to get down on paper - or at least a sequencer.
It's hard to shake the tremendous sense of "Why bother? It's not like the majority of obsessive music fans even *listen* to female artists, let alone love them or rate them" that makes my heart sink every time I see another all-male best of list posted somewhere in the media or on the internet.
But this is the thing - I have always believed that massive crushes don't appear out of nowhere for NO APPARENT REASON. I think it was Tom Ewing (sorry if I'm misquoting you) who said, that when you have a massive crush on someone, it's usually more about wishing for yourself some aspect you feel they embody. I think the idea to take away from this crush is his oft-repeated mantra, the idea of making music for the sheer *fun* of it, because *you* want it to exist, you want to listen to it, rather than with the preconceived idea of audience or reception.
This is hard for me to get my head around, at this point in time - which is really odd considering how much of my life I spent, from about 1986 to 1999, as a bedroom producer. I spent my entire 20s playing in other people's bands, trying to please other people. It wasn't until I was nearly 30 that I got a band of mine own, playing mine own music - and as intoxicating as it was to play *my* music for other people, and to get adulation for it, in a way it ruined something.
I need to go back to making stuff in my bedroom, for me to enjoy. This is when I produce my best material, not when I'm writing to please or impress other people. Which is odd, as somehow, writing for the ears of others *feels* easier. Because you kind of know what they expect. But writing for yourself - the music that you make just because *you* want it to exist. That's what I like the best, and what I need to recapture.
If I could just stop writing smut for a weekend... That shit is addictive!