Sorted for e’s and wizz

not gonna look so focused in the am.

not gonna look so focused in the am.

I was listening to this song by Pulp which is on their album that I got for Christmas when I was twelve in 95′ and a young, impressionable UK schoolgirl. Pulp was massive and so was raving and outdoor parties it seems. Now I knew that drugs existed but I had no clue what they were.

I remember these adverts that desperate MP’s and government funded initiatives posted in teen magazines where they would depict some poor sod on a bad trip stuck in a “virtual” jail cell (the whole “once you take a trip, you’re stuck with it for twelve hours, mate” type effort). Those ads made me think “Lordy, I don’t want to be stuck behind a window with bars for twelve hours,” but never the less, it kept me away. For a while.

So now I have developed into a somewhat more ‘youthfully exuberant’ individual, I listened to the song for the first time in years and was chuckling to the lyrics in appreciation. The album was stolen from me when I was in treatment for said exuberance, but I recently got a copy. Ok I got the MP3’s. That’s besides the point.

The penny dropped and I knew what “e’s and wiz” was referring to. What got me was Jarvis going off about how kak the party situation gets at the end:

“Everybody asks your name, they say we’re all the same and now it’s “nice one, geezer,” and that’s as far as the conversation went. I lost my friends, I dance alone. It’s six o clock: I wanna go home. But it’s “no way, not today.” Makes you wonder what it meant. And now this hollow feeling grows and grows and grows and grows, and you want to call your mother and say “mother, I can never come home again cos I seem to have left an important part of my brain somewhere. Somewhere in a field in Hampshire.”

Having wanted to make a few similar calls to my mother back in the day, (and once I did call my parents at 5am after a night at a rave to tell my folks I was engaged – they weren’t very impressed by being woken up so early. Or that I was engaged. There was no need to say I had left my brain in a field – they kinda gathered that one by themselves) I got that feeling that sets in at about 7am at a rave, or about two hours after you spent your last cash.

I remembered that terrible feeling when you go outside and the sun seems to burn your eyes out of their sockets whilst that “hollow feeling” indeed grows and grows and grows and grows and eventually remains no matter how much hard manipulated cash you spend.

That awful moment, when you look at the other party-people in blunted, sunlit reality and you realise that you have mistakenly spent the night thinking that the dude standing next to you was the nicest person ever born and you couldn’t imagine your life without them, but is actually an utter freak, is never a nice moment for any inebriant. For nine hours you shared cigarettes, drugs and life stories, whilst intermittently trying to dislodge the tiles on the dance floor with your repetitive leg beating. And now your tripping buddy has morphed into someone you would have walked around to avoid if you saw them with a clear head.

But the worst part is when you realise that you have become one of those people you would walk around to avoid.

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