Opening

It’s luxury, memory’s Alfactory thrill, although vodka, the wretched, convulsions contort. It’s odour returns mind to most wondrous thoughts.

Transported to London, the age of ❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️, free to buy alcohol, New Year’s Eve heaven. With make up, I always looked older, you see. So loads of us, bought quarters, halves, with burnt pocket money.

I bought a Damned vinyl, and next to me, was glittery, Dave Vanien, pretty as coal, older and debonair as fucks lucky pluck. He signed the cover, before I stole it. See. I’ve always worked, but love the buzz, of stealing stuff. Not from a human, but corporations. Fuck their sociopathic representation.

I think in pluralism, there’s always more meaning, unleashing children in mayhem’s repeal hymns. I’ve always loved alcohol, yet hated the taste, a balancing act, mind perfect, bile chased. Oooops, Ferris-puke-rain, my deepest shame. (Not really, it was hilarious, two mornings after). Recounted gossip connected blame redirected.

Back to the story, In My Fare Lady, the excuse to parties. My pulse couldn’t resist, kept pushing at silence. This pressures momentum, starts gigglings demon. The harder I try, the higher it’s prize. I’m grinning now, in reminiscences, misandrist hissy fitter. Laughing louder, darkness shrouding the audiences apprehensive. I’m obscured by dizzy tension.

In the end, sent round his bend. My R****n, mathematician, made me sit with him. Humiliating. Still I could not stoop-stop, titter. My soul laugh as inappropriate on core. Made to leave the auditorium, stood as dunce, but lost in architecture. The west end, bends bent.

Next, in group, to squared Trafalgar, countdown abacus in chaos. Saftety, thought the teachers wisdom. Pauly saw first hand diversity. Mesmerised by so much new. My eyes were drawn from view to view. Now. Here’s the problem. “Rub”, ‘they’ say. The shy use alcohol to tame. The fear of real and social anxiety, but inexperience fused autonomy.

Out I ran, in circles making, friends and finding stories, debating, listening, then contributing, floating consciousness, unchained in revelry’s conscience. Fuck, I flitted, flirted, danced, lost in vodkas confident stance. I spent the 3,2,1 in Spanish, never heard my teacher panic.

Never felt that freer since. Safe, but lost. I reminisce. Quiet, but now without purpose, everybody starts to disperse. My new comrades, remind me, it’s 1:03, but return ends. I drag these adults on the bus, to Mr R****n’s, dismay bluster. We crowded in, my friends aghast. My world had opened up at last.

In isolations pleasure sought. I found insecurities resort. The endorphins of unsafe behaviour, resultant plushy-plaid-ponder sensations. No matter to me, I felt no remorse, I stared at the signature, rebooted course.

Diversions night, apparitions if, potential chaos’s fine sieve, lured me from my by-by comforts. I still loved to swim and dive, but now intrigue had become my hive. No more content with the ocean.

I sought new found site-oblivion-citizen-insane. Collision. Unlocked my from shyness prison. Liver hurts, but nothings free (zy) still missing.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brain

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Fair_Lady

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olfactory_memory

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.thealternative.org.uk/dailyalternative/monbiot-ted2019-politics-of-belonging%3fformat=amp