Better never than ever.

I’m running late.

I try not to run late, but sometimes I do.

I’ve got a lot to do, and I guess I have enough time to do it in, but the things don’t get done as smoothly as I’d like them to when I try and do them. I come up against brick walls, against personal road-blocks, and against constant changes in plans, directions, and problems. So, sometimes, I wake up when everything’s fallen apart already and decide to take it easy. Just lay in bed a little while longer, just saunter into the kitchen in my pants and pour my coffee into an unwashed cup, just lick the crust of yesterday’s lasagne off the inside of the microwave, where it exploded. That’s breakfast. That’s my life.

I’ll spend an extra twenty minutes on the end of my bed, fresh out of a long-quick bath where five minutes turns into ten turns into twenty, and let the towel and my hair wet the mattress as I sit here doing this thing.

The lads will be together, doing something – I don’t know what. Working on tunes or something. Working on some album we’re making. Getting ready for some tour or other (www.phoriamusic.com for dates and tickets). I’m supposed to have gotten one of the new tracks down, by now. I haven’t. It’s there, but it ain’t down. I’m not useless, I’m just creaky. We’ll work on it in the practice room and it’ll be fine. It’s a bit of polishing – nothing serious – but I wish I had it down because now it’s going to be effort.

I don’t want any effort today. I want to sit here and play video games with the woman. I want to eat filthy food off filthy plates and smear melted chocolate all over my chest and have that be-boobed thing lick it off me. I want to climb naked onto the roof of the house and pitch a big flag on it with a picture of me with a crown on my head, then spend the afternoon setting up searchlights to illuminate it. Then I want to sit outside the front of the house in a lawn chair, wearing sunglasses and sipping long cocktails and screaming my name. If anybody walks past I’ll point at the flag and they’ll smile and nod their head.

They will.

But no. The band denies me that.

Well, I’m going to be fifteen minutes late. Let’s see how that learns the bastards.

Tim

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