Dancing

After my usual dose of Pathways (the drug clinic), Library (for blogging), and Pause (mental health drop in), I went to the pub yesterday. I met up with Tom and his girlfriend, a recently-housed ex-homeless couple who had been living in a tent. I lived with Tom on what we called ‘The Step’ the other summer. As you’ve probably already guessed, ‘The Step’ is just a step by the local Masonic hall. Quite a few of the town’s homeless used to gather there; there was usually a dollop of camaraderie involved in proceedings. One morning I remember watching a man searching for crumbs in his sleeping bag to go on his crack pipe and I recall thinking, “I wish he had more of that stuff, he deserves it.” I felt really sorry for him because he was scrimping and scraping around for a few measly specks. Nothing in the world should be so precious to a man. Incidentally, I borrowed him a fiver and he hasn’t paid me back since.

Me and Tom got talking about ideas for my new book, about psychosis. I mentioned Octo-Dick the other day. My second character has a problem with eating pizza. Because she hears voices, she can never decide which flavour to buy. She wants one variety, the voices want another. I think she has a friend who always eats The Voices’ Pizza. Tom suggested it would be interesting to do part of the story from the pizza’s perspective. Rose at poetry group last month performed a poem where the perspective was from that of a sofa, so I’m slightly intrigued by this tip.

Antonia was in the pub. We moved our chairs around the one table. She was the woman who did my head in a month or so ago because she wouldn’t shut up talking with a man named Mark who had a frothy mouth because he was on cocaine. I made a conscious effort to be extra-friendly to her this time around. Sooner rather than later we were holding hands and then the next thing you know we kissed. I don’t often kiss women that often, so it was kind of a big thing. Just several nights earlier I was kissing sexy women in a dream, so it was quite strange how it panned out. Antonia is disabled, she uses a crutch to walk, but she’s not a bad looking broad. She is no match however for the erotic astral plain (I don’t think anyone is, for that matter). Anyway, not two seconds after our lips parted, this Mister Man hotshot kind of guy walks in claiming to be her boyfriend and she kisses him on the lips too! I took him aside when we were smoking out of the doorway and said, “Listen mate, brothers first, okay? Your girlfriend in there just kissed me on the lips. I’m just letting you know because I wanted you to hear it from me first.” He ended up being sound about it and bought me a drink.

I now made a conscious effort to not totally ignore her but to leave her mostly alone for the rest of the night. She kept trying to kiss me in front of him though! I wouldn’t have none of it. I respected him more than her all of a sudden. He even gave me a twenty deck of imported ciggies for nothing, which I shared with Tom. I spent £50 on drinks throughout the duration of the evening, and didn’t get in until well after midnight. One thing I still can’t believe is the fact that I was dancing, however. I haven’t danced in a pub or club for years and years. Just like when you’re smiling, dance and the world dances with you. At one point there was just me and this dude on the dance floor (of sorts), throwing shapes at each other. I did feel a tad gay at this interlude, but mainly enjoyed myself and had loads of fun. It was great to be out (and dancing), with some company for a change, instead of just sat on my own in a corner as a spectator.