www.betika.co.uk
I did a Murray Walker on myself last night. Carolyn was saying how tired the recent spell of intense Betika activity has made her, and I rather flippantly told her that she was probably going to bed too early. I've been going to bed as it's getting light, then getting up and going to work or to do Betika stuff, and so far (after about two weeks) I've felt pretty good, if perhaps slightly removed from the real world. Today I do not feel so good. We spent last night trying to get my vocals right on "Thunderstorm", and I was having real trouble with my nasal passages, probably due to hayfever. We did take after take after take until I literally couldn't sing any more and Caz couldn't keep her eyes open (I took a nice photo of her sleeping on the drumkit, she looks very peaceful yet extremely uncomfortable). I had a relatively early night (asleep by 12.30), but was woken far too early by..................a Thunderstorm! Initially, my thoughts were that this was a sign from God that I should get up and record yet more singing, but my body strongly disagreed, and the resulting tug-of-war between the two left me in a semi-waking state for far too long. Eventually I slipped into one of those horribly realistic dreams about getting up and going to work, only to find that I worked in a wizard school and could fly by ever so gently lifting both feet off the ground and floating upwards.
I may have slightly Murrayed myself in my last post too, when I said that cabin fever had yet to set in. I've found myself becoming concerned - borderline obsessed to be honest - with Carolyn's claim that sometime she's not thinking about anything. On occasions she'll just stare vacantly into space, often looking thoughtful, sometimes troubled, and I'll ask her out of curiosity or sometimes concern what she's thinking about, and she'll reply "nothing". Now I know what you're thinking: Everyone does that, and when they say "nothing", they just don't want to talk about whatever is on their mind. But Caz insists that this isn't the case, and that she really isn't thinking about anything. And that concept terrifies me. I never stop thinking, and I couldn't if I wanted to, my thoughts come in a constant high-pressure stream that can't be turned off. I've tried that Zen meditation technique where you think of a candle and blow it out, and all that happened was my heart stopped beating and my corpse had to be re-animated by evil (aren't they all?) scientists. I've tried using mantras to block out other thoughts, but always they creep back in. To me, the idea of the absense of thought is like the concepts of infinity or death, impossible to properly get my head round. When Carolyn says she's been not thinking of anything, it's like someone telling me that they haven't been breathing for the last ten minutes, or more sinisterly, it has echoes of Charles Manson's assertation that he had no conception of remorse (When asked in a documentary if he was sorry for the murder of Sharon Tate, he replied "Charlie don't know what sorry is" - the look in his eyes said he meant it). It's like something important is missing, and I'm growing paranoid that she might be some kind of psychopath. Or a closet Zen master. Either way, I'm starting to look at her like Homer and Mr Burns looked at each other after they got buried in that avalanche.
I wonder what the longest time is that two people have been confined in a small space with only each other for company? Probably in orbit, or on a remote lighthouse. I wonder how long it took before they started having these kinds of thoughts?
Nearly finished now (me and IT).
