august 7 2024

The woman behind the cash at Billy’s tells me I look sexy.

I laugh with my whole chest. I thank her and do a little curtsy. I’m decked out in head-to-toe all black leather and lace for my BBC6 Live Session at 9AM on a Wednesday morning so yeah, she’s right. I order a green tea and tip her 10 pounds.

I join Ben and Darcy on the patio outside. Ben has ordered a full English before the set and he’s complaining about the oregano they’ve put on the dish. 

“It doesn’t make any sense!”

I sip my tea and look out at the London streets. I feel lucky and delicate. Like a figurine.

I want to say that tour always gets me in my feeeeeelings - real existential, libidinal and reflective but really, what doesn’t? I’m trying to accept my sensitivities. I roll my eyes but I mean it - it’s too much effort to try to be different than you are. At some point, the defence mechanism becomes a crutch and it doesn’t take that good of an eye to spot a fake.

It’s been a weird year. But I sit here and I think about my life and I know I’ll survive it. I already did. I always do.