Dancefloor Disassociation
The
late eighties and early nineties were my domain
but I
was too square for rave and too scared of drugs
so it
was off to Clwb Ifor Bach we trooped
with
pounds in our pockets and hope in our hearts.
Sticky
floors and loud music, sick in the bogs!
I wasn’t
but it was always there, in the urinal or on the floor.
Some
band that we’d come to talk over.
The
S4C actors we admired and wanted to be
thinking
“What must it be like to play for a living?”
My
mates were all having fun or so it seemed
but I
was starting to disassociate, to switch off and wind down.
Not in
a chilled out fashion but in a “What is the point kind of way?”
They
can’t hear you talking over the din and this is not the place
to discuss
Mao’s Red Book or the impossibility of Welsh Independence.
I was
shit scared of girls/women and the more I drank, the crazier I became.
I
wanted to talk about revolution
they
drank their Bacardi and thought I was insane.
Almost
always leaving early for the shuffle and stagger down Westgate Street
It was
what everybody did so I did it too
but I hated it.
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