Our life, like the universe, is largely made up of dark matter punctuated by the occasional bright spot. As we stare into the unnatural canvas of brake lights and computer screens, sat in our prescribed clothing trying to remain within prescribed behaviours, is it any wonder how close our demons lurk beneath this veneer? Something as simple as the organised vibration of air particles is enough to lure the beasts from all of us, unleashed and unburdened, a second state of you, fist in the air. Screaming “It has to start somewhere It has to start sometime, what better place than here, what better time than now? All hell can't stop us now”.
Read MoreI’d literally just clicked send on the Just Eat order, the anticipation of a large chicken kebab swirling around the axions and synapses. Was I droolin? Then that little ping and a blue message “I’m on my way”. What? Why are you on your way? What purpose? I check the ROCKFLESH calendar, clear as a bell, Oct 1st - Sons of Apollo. I quickly throw a t-shirt and hoodie on and dive out. Johann’s late for a gig I thought was tomorrow. He roars down the street, I’m already missing the kebab. The rain has turned the roads black, slick and shiny. Distorted brake lights multiplied in the windscreen. After a few death defying, maybe law breaking manoeuvres, we are at the familiar side street in Manchester city centre. The Academy 2 is the epitome of a box auditorium. It looks like a glorified Punch and Judy stand.
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