I Ken That Boy. He's Ma Brother

Sunday PM in the City Of Hopes and Dreams...Left the land of the Interweb and went to see 'The Squid and The Whale' at The Cameo. Just sitting there vibin' before the fillim began. What should be playing over the tannoy but the first Kristin Hersh solo alboom. Very strange indeed. I'm never sure what I make of her stuff when I hear it these days. It was the alboom with 'The Letter' and 'Me And My Charms' and a' that on it. That is the first one isn't it? 'Hips And Makers'. Aye it is. To hear the stuff again was of some interest to me. It sounded a bit 'showily intense' if that makes any sense? It was all too simple and straight forward. A bit like me and ma writing then? ha ha. No wonder I listened tae her so much in ma 'formative years' much to the chagrin of a number o' ma pals and fellow band mates. Recently whenever I've rediscovered anything by her I just don't get it, mainly for the reasons I mentioned above. It sounds so normal and plunka plunka as if she was stuck in a groove and didn't have sufficient 'otherness' or goddamned talent to get out of it despite 'presenting' to the contrary. I feel she's extremely schticky in her approach. Odd to hear this again for sure. I think I could make up a mini album of her numbers that I would like to hear again out of all the millions of records she's made in various guises. That would be enough for me. Acht well. Maybe I should tell her this next time I see her. She is in fact married to KB. The first time I saw the future Mrs. KB I couldn't quite believe she wasn't KH. There are days when I still can't. Quite a likeness. Or is that just me being me again? Aye the fillim was rather great. I don't use this phrase lightly- it was 'real'. It wasnae the story of ma childhood by a long shot but I recognised a good bit of similarity in nuance and texture (ha) along the way. It was short and bitty like a snap shot o' a period of time. Surprising then that it didn't have a better sense of the period. There were modern day cars and bits and pieces to be seen which was sloppy but importantly it was funny and sad in spades and it reminded me a lot re growing up and of growing up in the 80's. I came frae a different class of course but I was 'an awkward boy' and that's a universal language. Jeff Daniels did 'complacent academic' magnificently but for the majority of the fillim I was transfixed by Laura Linney. I've ayways liked her. Just to clear up yesterdays post and to give you a reference point, she has TLK's complexion. I love that vibe. You can read her face. It's open and warm. She's lovely in this. Perfect as a mum and as a 'newly single' woman too. A bit more of her wouldn't have gone amiss but then I always say that about characters and actors I like. Walking hame I minded that earlier in the day I had seen a minor legend. Well certainly a shaggy one of yesteryear. I was in the KB mobile. Oot the windae I saw Bob Fairfoull, once of awbody's favourites Idlewild and now of naebody's favourites Degrassi. I'm sure he gets the odd royalty cheque frae Parlophone frae time to time but I think of him as having had a somewhat mighty 'fall from grace' tho' I too would have been keen to get away from the shite that they were/are playing. He was on a perennial 'worse for wear' tip in thae days- that's what the NME and legions of posh bairns picked up on- and this sighting reminded me o' that, not in the sense of drunken glory days but more that the way he looked told me that the party was maybe over. He trudged more than of yesteryear. He was carrying a John Lewis bag- shaggy ones do not have to enter into domestic areas sic as this- and a stoop to boot. Maybe he was talking tae hissel tae. It looked like he was or that he had done so quite recently. We would probably get along well these days. When 'ma' band were still going we played with Idlewild a coupla times (I know you all don't believe this. How can a fat bastard have ever invaded one of the key circles in the world of virillity? Well it was only a minor invasion. I wasn't as fat or as bald when we started tho' I was still to a level which merits exclusion from the shaggers club. Whenever I tell folk of my past in bands they look at my gut and my lack of hair and a look of utter disbelief and mistrust crosses their face. IT'S TRUE. Musicians are meant to scream sex and the high life whereas I'm more from the school of 30 seconds with the centrespread of Razzle followed by another 'doomed to failure' loan application appointment...anyway...I mind Bob speaking to me a good few times. He seemed too drunk to make any impression other than to wear you doon. He once said that Idlewild had almost asked us if we wanted to tour with them but they thought there was no way we would or could do it. Because of the situ in the band at the time I found this hard to accept. It messed with my mind, it really did. It fed my 'life has passed me by' and 'I am defeated' shit. Seeing BF must have set the tone for seeing 'musicians' and ones with odd 'personal' connections at that. Later I saw a member o' St. Jude's Infirmary coming oot o' The Cameo. He's the wiry wee guy who plays the bass. SJI are a bunch of Mazzy Star obsessives consisting of 3 shaggy bairns and 2 old men, some of whom allegedly come from Kirkcaldy, my home town. The singer has something of the' Beaky Bailey' (a camp as Christmas music teacher at ma old skale with, funnily enough, a huge conk)/ Robin Michael/ FYJO trinity about her. She must be one of the Kdy ones. Ma home town is a motherfucker of a place. It nearly broke me. It puts the piss in provincial. You can see the class struggle anywhere you go and it doesn't have to be a clear day for you to see it either. The school I went to was very mixed. A lot of tough folk frae the Links area o' Kirkcaldy and a lot of posh bairns frae some of the affluent areas surrounding the school. The school had a culture of middle classness writ large: 'school plays'. 'the school brass band' and in particular heavy involvement in a Fife youth jazz (for fuck's sake!!!!) orchestra. The supremo was a legend of this polyglot of the year/ Rotary Club/ Bible Society scene called Richard Michael. This guy strode like a colussus through the blue rinses and the churchgoers of affluent Kdy. You could always tell the kids who were part of his scene- stringy boys and lovely wispy girls, all posh and reeking of mid to upper table division 2 affluence. Everyone was cultured and presentable and going places, usually over to Edinburgh to study Economics and Politics on a parental contribution. This was a world I knew nothing about. What no Sunday school?...and no bassoon lessons either? Ma family couldn't afford a holiday never mind a holiday home. The epicentre of this world was to be found in a couple of schemes (that's the wrong phrase of course...the bourgeoisie live on estates. It's only us oiks who live in schemes) near the Beveridge Park in Kirkcaldy. I remember feeling that this area had to be where EVERY member of FYJO came from. I've always been floored and battered by the trappings of the middle classes. They're all invited. It's all possible- gap years, exchange students, the above- mentioned parental contribution. I hated the inevitability. The feeling that wi' cash you could never fail. I've not thrown off that imression either. When I saw SJI I could picture the 3 youngsters in their Balwearie senior plain red ties in the Mercat shoppping centre at Xmas time playing 'The Rockford Files' followed by 'Pipes Of Peace' on the Tuba or the trumpet...raise money for the belltower at St.Brycedales/ come along to an evening with The Reverend Ken Froude and raise funds to educate the black babies about god. It bore down on you all the time. Come along and praise the efforts of Rory Sandilands in winning the Fife under 14's tennis tourney- RS was a 'lovable' moppet, with a Gower esque hairdo who made the back cover of the Fife Free Press (v.v. inward local rag) when he won a few gemmes in the Bevvy Park against fellow plummy ones called Callum and Victor or Alasdair. His family seemed to be loaded which made him far more 'newsworthy' In turn this helped to perpetuate the hegemony. The genteel ones of 'their' class would love him much in the same way that Stuart Anderson was lionised by ''my' class. The fucking reactions of these people. 'Oh you're not working?' etc etc. Lend us a few pounds please and make yersels useful, you upper middle bastards. You get it frae both sides in Fife. Ma ain class have a tradition of producing 'wee shites', the highest quality examples. In certain circles you survive simply by coming across as stupid as you can. You have to. Suspicion arises particularly when you are a 'fat bastard' that you might be a 'gadgie', a 'radgie' or a 'radgie gadgie' as you don't quite correspond to the look of a Burberry Bastard. Schemies, like overbearing 'achievers' in their own 'style', can do what they like as they shout louder than everyone else. 'Achievers' seem to have a right or a personality to allow them to follow their own paths. This is not afforded to you or I unless we become 'one of them'...permit me one or 2 EM's please...!!! So where do you go in Fife? The answer is nowhere. You get out of Fife and, in theory at least, leave the pressure behind. I digress...back to SJI. The old guys have to be from Fife. There is way too much of the Sunday Afternoon jam session about them for them to come frae Morningside. The guy I saw last night may be as well. While not quite having the air of Boglily Road that the singer does, he definately has a kent face, it's true. Shit, I'm having trouble identifying what it is I want to say. I saw the guy. I thought o' Fife. I'm not that keen on their music, awbody else is, and of course they're all that counts. So that was Sunday. Monday I could feel a mood setting in. I'll see TLK tomorrow. It overwhelmed me. I tried to fight it but of course I couldn't. I recall nothing at all re work but the memory of an awareness that TLK is always there in ma thoughts. I can't overstate that. It's impossible for me to do so. I wished for a while today I hadn't mentioned what I said re her past on the last post. I suppose I wanted to give a bit mair context to what I say aboot her and why I like her/ why I think about her all the time. It's no as if anyone reads this anyway. Well it's no! Decided I'll keep it in. I suppose it's testament to my lunacy if nothing else. Can recall nothing re Monday. Lots of work, I think. All with a feeling of doom underneath. It was coming from everywhere and not just the obvious. To counter it I ate and ate all day. I was 'starving' as soon as I'd finished anything. My mind jumped back and forth. The TOT started. It was true agony. I can't tell you all the thoughts I had. Flying at me. "This is what you'll do". "This is what you are". "This is what you've done". Over and over for hours. It all wore me down. Not sure how but I did manage to sleep. Maybe I'd expended so much energy in lifting the crisps to ma mooth. Woke up on Tues. The TOT had gone temporarily at least. The odd murmour but nothing sustained. Went into work. I didn't want to. I saw her at 12-ish. She greeted me with a cheery gesture. I grunted tho' talked a wee bit later. It was all back and forward stuff again. One friendly encounter. One unfriendly. We chatted about something and then kinda mid conversation she got up and went to talk to KS in the other room. I started to feel that I just couldn't take any more of this shite from my side and from hers. I found it hard to look in her direction. I mostly squinted at her. She said something patronising during the team meeting thing we had. I countered. It helped to make me feel worse. I feel every emotion that you can feel when it comes to her. I seem annoyed at her. Not totally sure why. You probably have as good an idea as me. In the afternoon I went with a client to his daughters funeral. It was heavy heavy stuff. I felt as if I wasn't doing my job properly. I'm not good with people. I thought of ma mother's edict " aye son, if you hate yersel ye canne help other folk" . It didn't help. All day Tuesday I thought about me and my abilities. They didn't amount to much. My achievements came to absolutely nothing. I saw her again beofre I finished work. Almost mid sentence she seems to change emphasis and inflection in what she says. What does she mean?? She said a few things that could have been taken as sarcasm. I hate the feeling I get from her that whenever I 'get oot o' masel' and relax and feel comfortable talking with her then that's when she'll start to disconnect and get abrupt with me. At the moment I find it genuinely impossible to be around her. It is too taxing and too much. I know this is MY problem. It must be. Whoever's 'problem'it is I don't know how to deal with it. After I left the work I felt as if I'd had enough, quite frankly. The TOT came back. I missed her already. I couldn't face seeing her again. I couldn't face seeing masel again. The level of squalor in the shithole was beyond normal levels. I sat there with gut bulging eating ma chippy. I looked at the bottle of bleach I had on the bunker. I wasn't scared of it anymore. At that point a news story came on the telly. It was about an old footballer who had grogged heavily. He was very ill. He needed a liver transplant. He seemed mired in the glory days. He wanted them back. The feature ended with one of the best things I've ever heard. He was physically fucked up. In a calm voice he said 'I've danced. I have to pay the piper. I know that ' . I honestly don't know how to follow that.