Monday, 21 July 2008
“It was especially hard for me being a pampered child with sever nervous difficulties and mental break downs” he shuddered
“I gradually got to know the door man, Johnny who gradually became one of my best friends. I scared him at first because of my physical presence anyone can be scared of a 6ft tall slap head. When he started to talk to me he realised he was starting to crack Chestnut and that he ought not to have been weary of me” he gestured with arms aloft and softened eyes
“He realised that I was actually a gentle person, who had a burning passion for music, I n many ways I was more nervous of him then he was of me. I found his physical presence intimidating at first” he mesmerised
“But then I realised that behind his physical presence was someone that I felt I could look up to with a certain degree of respect. He often gave me advice on how I should conduct myself with respect to his experiences” he croaked as his hair rustled in the bitter breeze
“I can remember he would tell me quite a lot of stories of his playing and tour managing experiences and I would tell him at length about the great bands I had seen. He would often state to me that if a Nat farted then I would be the first person to know about it and that if they recorded it then I would be the first person to dance to it” he smirked with a twinkle in his eye
“He always looked out for me! He saw me grow from out of the shadows of the reclusive wall I had built around me. I mean I used to be so insular that I had to invite people into my world, a crazily fucked up world in my head that people bore no resemblance for connection. I was a complete emotional void empty of knowing how to deal with my emotions!”
The Hacks face looked drawn onto the fragile body of the Crone sprawled with the Iron girders surrounding him.
“He always said that I would be a star!” breathed the Crone
“I had all the potential to make something special happen but I ended up in this degenerate mess! Surround by rusting irons and collapsing roofs” he scowled hollowly
“He said he always knew if it was a good gig if the usual suspects turned up”
“The Usual Suspects?”
“Yeah there was this group of older guys who had to have the first tickets for pretty much every good gig in town, they would often line up with me down the front, creating a suspect line of heads”
“Who did the group consist of?”
“The group consisted of myself!”
“You considered yourself to be a usual suspect?”
“Well yes, there were the 2 Dave’s, Graham, and the 2 Lee’s, each had their gawky musical obsession, I mean literally they were the first people to know about any band”
“Well anyway, Johnny, the door man for the Louisiana was the first real person I could open up to and talk about the brazenness of my realities. He was the first person I openly talked to about my operation fuck up and how the horrific nightmares from the effects of the hospital drugs had left nerve shredding marks!, I still to this day remember some of the horrific vision that I had”
“Really? What sort of nightmares?”
“There is this 1 nightmare that constantly dogs me” he spoke with a stifled tone
“I had re-a curing nightmare which was similar to the torture scene from Clockwork Orange where the keep the guys eyes open force him to watch a variety films whilst injecting him” he said glaring with sparse eyes as the Hack gulped
“With my nightmare, I thought that the doctors who were treating me were evil scientists trying to sell evil killing masks to create an army of mass killing teenagers” he chuckled
“You see when I was in hospital I had to wear this giant facial mask to help me breathing because my lounges were a bit weak, and I thought they were projecting images through the mask”
“What images?” queried the Hack
“The images in question I can not really accurately describe, but they would start with gentle images that could be perceived as nice and relaxing but gradually they would speed up getting more morbid and disturbing the longer they went on!”
“That sounds horrific!”
“eye Hack it was a horrific re-a curing dream, they tell you all about the positive effects of the drugs like Morphine but not the negatives from the side effects and how they can have devastating mental attitudes!”.
“I mean literally the speeding up of the images caused me to have near fatal nightmares! But it did help calm down my breathing!” he said shakily, his eyes riming pale blue
The Crone took a deep meaningful sigh “I also at the time began to make friends with some of the Louisiana’s bar staff on the late night lock inns at the. I found it hard to talk to the female bar staff because I had this buzzer in my head telling me to shut up” he said tapping his scalp
“I developed a real soft spot for one of the bar maids called Sammy, she was a nice hippieish girl who had a really nice aura about her, I’m a sucker for nice hippy girls”
“I can remember being in the Old Duke Pub after a gig with her sat down at a table making wire statues out of wire with a local artist. She made me a bracelet by inter twining wires. I promised her that I would never take it off as it was symbol of our friendship and the way my soft heart pounded!” he said pounding his chest.
“Did you take it off?”
“No Hack, I stayed true to my words! Because I like it when people make stuff for me, it shows that they care and I will always remember or romanticise about silly little moments like that. It stayed on my wrist for a good year or so! Until it snapped off!” he grazed
“It was disappointing that it fell to pieces because it was like letting go of a memory that had a powerful grip over me, sometimes it is hard to let go of things especially if they have any sort of sentimental value” he said with saddened tones to his voice
“Emotions are always hard to let go of with a heavy heart, because you don’t always know the impact little things can have on each other”
“Little things you do can have lasting effects as to how you can relate to others” sadi hack with agreeing sounds
“Little touches make the world go round” he said with a dazed expression on his face.
Sunday, 20 July 2008
“Not at first. Before Manic F I was in a band called the Recluses with my friend Dusty Ol’ Jake. We were like a double trouble tag team of the musical variety!” he said fondly
“You nether got one without the other. We put in some legendary performances, including one acoustic show where I almost ended up double exposing my raw behind to the full moon effect” he chuckled
“Some of the vocalists squirmed at the site of me and my repugnant smell. I’m like a dodgy scratch and sniff card” laughed The Crone
“We tried to play experimentalist punk but ended up droningly thudding with a bass player by the name of Mr Johnson, he was an ultra reclusive personality, he looked a bit like a fly swat but he fitted in perfectly with mine and Jakes mentality in wanting to create something that pushed with vibrancy” he took a deep breath
“He was a good bass player; he did several gigs with us including playing the Louisiana! The best live music venue in Bristol”
“I can remember playing the first gig there! We opened up for local punk type bands including White Trash Ambition who echoed all their influences including Sonic Youth and Fugazi; it was our first proper gig”
“How did your first gig go?”
“I personally was completely soiling my pants with nerves, but I think we put on an effective show1 I mean we scared the crappers out of several of the White Trash Ambition members”.
“Why was this?”
“Well they had seen all of us being nervous and shy in setting up and for them to come up the stairs to see me poised behind the drum kit in my black and White face paint screaming down the microphone, Jake in his leathers and Mr Johnson with the balaclava. We also had the American flag draped across the drum kit making big statements, or so we thought! You have also got to remember that at the time I was a skinhead with ultra freaky mentality of imagery”
“I can see how you could scare people with that look”
“I had some fun times with the Recluses even though I did make the mistake of leaving my telephone number up on a scratty little website I had set up for the band with the aim of getting further gigs. This was a bad idea” said the Crone ratcheting his voice with humorous tones.
“I got a text stalker” he yarned
“Someone, who called them self Leanne, who sent me some really crude messages!”
“How crude were the messages?” asked Hack
“They were crude enough to turn any nun blue and to make them blush like bloomers” he said making gestures with his hands.
“Each message referred to what they or it wanted to do with my sexual orphisms. I mean it was quite exciting for me considering I had never had any female interaction. For all I know she could have been telling the truth. She or it did claim to be a glamour model in her 20’s but she or it could have quite easily been a 40 year old bifter”
“It” he hollered “It started by leaving salacious messages the scratty little web site I had set up using Moonfruit, a cheapo Internet provider”.
“The messages usually consisted of how she and a friend had seen us play at the Louisiana and that she was a model but not of the clothes variety!” he said winking
“It all started so innocently and then quickly declined into absurd sexual fantasies, which lasted for about a week, it was fun whilst it lasted but it did start to get rather scary! I can even remember trying to phone her once and left her a one ringer to which she responded by sending me a text asking me the size of my manhood and what colour pants I was wearing” laughed the Crone.
“I loved the Louisiana, it had a real sense of grandeur with its old varnishing on wooden plated chairs and old style pub and the upstairs where they had bands play in sometimes sauna like conditions, because of the power driven lights generating an exciting atmosphere” the Crone said whilst pouring the stale coffee into his flask mug.
“It had a real family feeling to the place, I felt really at home there after a while” he said staunchly sipping the Coffee.
“When I first started going there I used to be a shy shadow like figure who would be down the front head banging away with my scalped head shining from the light and beads of sweat that would trickle down my fore head from the enjoyment of it all. I would just turn up at venues like the Louisiana and not say a peep to people,” he said with a slight nervous twitch in his face
“This was how I made friends with people at the venues, by turning up at their shows and being the odd one out in the audience. I used to find it hard to make friends, knowing how to extend the olive branches for connection. I always saw myself as a nuisance if I spoke!” he said puffing out his with a deep breath
“One of the performances I had to play Paul Weller’s ‘Changing Man’ in the style of a Green Day esqu pop Punk band”
The Hack stared at the Crone blank faced.
“I see I am going to have to teach you a few things about music” he said with an impatient tone to his voice!
“Well it was frantically loud and fast! it was so frantic that the tutors were pulling facial expressions, trying to indicate when to stop for the brakes in the song!. I on the other hand misinterpreted the expressions into thinking that they wanted me to play louder and faster! So when I saw their faces I thought right you want it louder and faster” he said
“Its funny that the Wilder I played, the wilder their facial expressions were” the Crone laughed.
“there was one point where I did a flam on the snare drum and the snare bounced up out of its stand about 3 inches because I hit it with such force” he paused
“God I was a right animal with the sticks, I think I could have been endorsed by promark for playing their sticks and breaking them” he chuckled
“But when I did get the brake right for that one point you could see everyone intake a deep breath before I clattered their ears with even more frantic volume!”
“It sounds like you made quite an impression on people?”
“Yes I probably did, I used to have this attitude where I had to try and out do people with every performance I did. I made a lot of friends whilst there, but you know you make a promise to keep in touch with everyone but your flame drops because you cut yourself out of the
“How did you cut yourself out of the loop?”
The Crone sighed “Well you know you cut yourself out of the loop both visually and eventually I lost all contact because I had moved back in with my parents in the countryside away from the Big Smoke all the way back into the wilderness”
“It was a frosty time imbetween me and my parents because I sensed there was a feeling of disappointment because they could not understand my mentality. I felt like I had drifted away from my parents” he said.
“I mean they had done things behind my back”
“What sort of things?”
“Well my parents did divide the house in two and let half the house out to some friends, luckily they were close friends because they helped to patch relationships with my dad”.
“I had a bit of a hard time battling against my Dads steely outer shell, I think he struggled to grapple with the Idea that I had learning difficulties and that I found it hard to function in the working world” he stressed in his voice
“Luckily they were close friends and they managed to help me heal my relationships with dad by acting as translators for explaining my feelings. They helped to paper up the cracks in both mine and my parents which was gaping” he said nervously his eyes darting from side to side.
“My dad obviously had feelings for the younger couple”
“I spent a year lazing on my arse munching on potato chips, watching the world pass on by!” he said with regretting tones
“So I decided to move with the help of my parents I decided to move”
“What was it like moving?” clasped the Hack
“It was unnerving because it lead to the double slap of life! You know with the NHS and stuff and my friend tragic death!”
“Things took a nasty turn after my friend had died! He left a widow and 2 kids lodging at my parents place in the countryside. This really did expose tensions imbetween my Parents relationship, causing fractures in their foundations” The Crones voice shook
“I have never really been able to fully explain the emotional tour de force that preceded his death, I kept on hearing raised voices and crashing crockery as arguments flared up and all because of my dad having feelings for the younger person” he said his voice shaking as the Hack looked on intently!
“My parents separated for a while but the rekindled their love for each other in amongst biting back stabbing words from locals. Even when I was here I could still feel the bite of blame from the words thrust around. It created a black cloud that shrouded the house”
“I was lucky that I had a way of escaping all the hostility through music”
Thursday, 17 July 2008
"Music is such a great way to open one's self expression' his voice rang with honesty
"If I did not have music to express myself then I would already be 6ft under. Music is such a great way to open ones expressions"
His eyes hollow upon a couple of fresh-faced kids that trudge on past sneering "Get a job!!"
'Bugger off! Bloody judgment list Kids, what was it they said?, judge others how you wish to be judged and yet they always seem to feel free to dish out judgements left right and centre with little or no response" He scalped
"Wait till they till they grow up then they might wizen up to their surroundings"
"Yeah! but some people never grew up, I mean I never really grew up properly myself. My life has been such a head rush!, yet I somehow found myself bitten in this old heap"
His voice was dazed as his eyes travelled across the Iron gurders where he used to see many riches.
"I used live in the false pretences of fame! Before all of my disturbances I was living in dissolution. I was castend off to drum school for a year where I accidentally walked into the doors of popularity" he reminisced
"I took my love of live performance with me! All you need to mention is the band Rage Against the Machine and you will send some of the tutors into dissipated sense of fear"
"Why would the mention of that bands name make the tutors scared?, or is that a stupid question?"
"Stupid questions come with stupid answers Hack! We used to have weekly sessions on performance where they would gather all the singers, guitarists, and bass players
and drummers in a little theater just around the corner from the College, which some bright spark decided to place above a pub!"
"It was excellent trade for AA centres!. I think more people spent their time in their lifting pintsized weights then they spent doing musical recreation"
"Well anyway for the performance sessions we would be given a song to learn for each session! And one session we did Rage Against the Machines angry classic Killing In The Name Of. I found the drum track a little too hard for my capabilities at the time and so I decided to give the vocals a go an try and give all the little daddies Boys and girls a lesson in how to give it some balls!'
'And you showed them some balls?'
'Hell yes!' exclaimed the Crone
"I showed them some balls alrighty!, they did make the mistake of allowing me to sing in the last group of the afternoon which they thoroughly regret now!"
"Why? What did you do?" glanced Hack with a nervous sense of caution
"Well you know how the song goes with the heavy guitar and the back beat drums"
The Hack nodded nervously with an edgy look in his eyes.
"Well when they were playing the heavy part of the intro I was jumping up and down like the clappers and getting in people faces! When the vocals first kick in, you no the
Bah, bah, bah, Bah, bah, bah" he said flailing his arms to the beat.
"Well I said Killing In The Name and head butted the microphone" he said pummelling his fist against his head.
"I went too overboard in the performance, I was smacking my head about, climbing over the students who were sat in the seats crapping themselves as I was getting right into their faces!" chirped Crone
"I virtually knocked over the drum kit scaring the crappers out of the poor drummer!, I mean the Tutors had to virtually restrain me!!. I kept on pummelling so hard that I had the Mesh imprinted on the forehead" he cackled tapping a spindly finger on his head.
"I have never seen the place empty so quickly!, I mean as soon as the performance had finished then the doors flung open!. I saw more streams of dark brownie black smoke then I saw Bodies and I never saw the tutors rush so quickly to the bar as they did then"
"Did this happen whilst you setting up your roots here?"
"No this happened in a place much nearer the big smoke, a place called the Academy of Contemporary Popular Music in the plush town of Guildford. I quickly garnered a reputation for my enthusiasm and quick whipped whit, making a few friends including a drummer called Mark who played with a band called Fortune Drive, but back then I was a right oddball style skin headed punk rocker with a thick scalp!"
'It was all so easy to stir people up!' The Crone paused to intake a deep breath as the Hack frantically scribbled.
"All it takes is to say or do something a bit extravert to either go with the flow or ruffle against the waves. I used to love ruffling against the waves to create my own streams!"
"I saw the audience as one big red shiny button with push stamped heavily all over it! So I saw it as my job as the performer to push it"
"That's a good analogy of what live music should be like!" stated the Hack
"That's what it used to be like until it became perforated with kids that were too cool for school! It is a statement that I have always abided by as a performer, I mean a soon as guitar feed back hit my ears it would trigger a switch in my head to go off with spazzmic results of Iggy Pop style proportions"
"Iggy Pop? Who is he?" questioned hack
"You don't who Iggy Pop is!". Hack shook his head!
"Fuck me!, Iggy Pop is the greatest Rock ní Roll front man ever!, He would pour heart, soul and sexually driven sweat into every performance, he gave true meanings to the words give me danger little stranger!"
"So did take much from his onstage persona?"
"Yes to a certain extent, but my sweat was not so much sexually driven just plain and turgid"î he laughed
"This was also before I discovered the use of showers and their power, so I was a stinky shaven headed, fleece wearing odd ball who managed accentuate everything in his performance".
"I was a proper weirdo. I remember doing a performance of Marilyn Mansons 'Beautiful People', with which I tried to apply the scare tactics by slabbering on lots of ridiculous face paint in paint in the shapes of crosses".
"Have you ever seen a 6ft tall slap head walk through a town covered in thick in dripping face paint and fake blood and wearing a smelly yellow dapple fleece"
"No! I can imagine you looked quite a sight" chuckled Hack
"The stunned look of awkwardness on peoples faces as I walked across town too the College. God I looked like a right mentalist!".
"When I arrived at the college I made so many people burst into fits of hysterics, I mean my friend Mark could barely sit or stand upright because he bursting with laughter so heavily. All the tutors were gawping at me"
"I also got the train back to my folks in the Countryside with the face paint still on, you can imagine what they were thinking as they picked me up from the train station!. Donít worry our son is only partially a fruit Cake!" he said in a hysterical accent
Monday, 14 July 2008
“How did you reach out to people with the use of music?” hack asked shakily
“How doe you think the Beatles or the Clash reached out to their fans?” he gauged at the Hack who remained frozen.
“Through songs! People are always touched by songs, Hack! Even you should know that” he said with a gasped expression.
“You see Hack I did not just reach out to people with written songs or spitten lyrics. I created a split personality to perform under” he said wistfully.
“I used my split personality to terrify people in the performances with my out shrieked honesty!” he squawked with his burning flinging his arms about.
“Was this the Character that people knew you for?” spoke Hack with a curious tone too his voice.
“Not many people knew me as a performer of the musical, poetic rap variety!” he said with his mannerisms calming.
“You were a rapper?” bemused Hack with a dumbfounded look on his face.
“Appearances can be deceptive Hack!” his voice rang
“I was a rapper but, I decided to keep him out of the whole flimsy plastic world of fame and how fake a pastiche it is”.
“But why keep it quiet? Hack asked as the Crone stared icily at him.
“It was too close to the bone of one mans nervelle system. Manic F was my Stage name” he paused to intake a deep breath.
“I was not your typical rapper, instead of doing the stereotypical standard prosthetic bling bling bullshit that people had got confused with hip hop music! I on the other hand decided to drive nail like words to expose one mans humanity,” he said with a sternning tone.
“Drove words into myself to uproot my personal experiences and often unsettling people because getting to close with squeamish effects!” the Crone hollered.
“I had a strong image that did not dilute from the overall effect,” he voiced grandiosely.
“What was your image and why?” pressed the disconcerting Hack with an air naivety. The Crone’s eyes shone with the flashes of reflection
“Well I wore an Orange jumpsuit, black and white face paint splattered all over my face, a cracked skull mask and painted white hat with black outlines of ears! Most of it was cobbled together from freebies giving it an unfeasibly un-trendily bizarre and scary image, god I looked ultra special,” he laughed with a darkened edge, causing the Hack to smile with a nervously.
“I had a bizarre obsession with table condiments”.
“Table Condiments?” he spluttered whilst peering at the Crone through his thick-rimmed musty glasses.
“Yes I used Tomato Ketchup to spread all over my stomach, I used it as a representative for blood” he spurned with his face twitching with the glimmering of a smile.
“I can remember doing one very eventful college at the old Thekla before it became the hip house on waters with all it’s fashionista’s and the vein teenagers all hang out trying to look cool”
“That was back in my heydays of the early 20’s. Dealing with disenchantment and spending time at Music College. I met so many people through the years of setting my stones in this place” he paused.
“At this one gig I managed to scare off the A and R department from Sony with the sheer intensity of the performance” he said with distained energy
“A&R?, what is A&R?” exclaimed Hack
“A&R stands for Artist and Repertoire, they are the people who sign the artists and they act as a representative for the for the labels” pausing for breath
“They are really slimy people, like fat slugs dripping with pure vapidity!” he said curling his tongue with sheer spite. “I mean who would want to sign to Sony nowadays, there is no money in the physical format of music anymore so your best off without them!!” the Crone commented with an informative air.
“How come you know about all this stuff?” posed Hack,
“I studied contemporary popular music and took a serious interest in the business sessions” he quipped before swigging at his stale coffee in his flask
“A&R people are some of the most fickle on the planet, I mean you present them with something out of the ordinary confrontational then they are easily scared!” he croaked “But
“But yeah I did use to cover my body in a combination of Tomato ketchup and black and white body paint, which smelt awfully nice” said the Crone with more the a hint of Irony in his voice.
“I used to try and get girls to lick it off afterwards and let’s just say it made me ultra popular”.
“Really??!!” astounded Hack.
“Of course not, it made me as popular as a virulent bout of salminella, yeah they liked it when it got saucy” his voice crackled with laughter.
“But at that one gig the A&R men for Sony turned up just as I was sparking up my performance, I had them bottling themselves within seconds, I could see a stream of brown smoke of where they were standing. It is amazing what you can do with a bit of real life aggression here, a bit of ketchup squirting here all rolled up with the black and white face paint. Does the job of scaring people good and proper” the Gleamed
“But in all seriousness I did use Manic F as a way of dealing with my personal issues” he said lowering his voice
Thursday, 10 July 2008
“What would draw their attentions to a young spirit like yourself” poised Hack.
“People are always flamed by those with good distinctions Hack,” he said before pausing to take a swig of the stale coffee in the flask.
“I made my marks by setting floors alight too the sounds of music that used to embezzle all the youth with the cool spouts, posing in pretences of fashion and their stale cardboard personas”.
“So by being such a clown you drew upon the love of many?” The Crone spluttered with spittle and coffee flying everywhere, covering the Hack.
“No, love never really happened for me, even though I had a lot of affections, I could never get past the buzzer in my head the would keep on pining me down as a fool” he mumbled with a muffled tone.
“I met some integrating people whose fascinations in me would burn around my very existence” he said with his mind breezing through his memories, his flitting eyes trickled off into the distance.
“I was one who burned the candles at both ends, fracturing the publicity of many a musical brand that counted amongst the croppers!” his voice almost burst.
“I was seen as a saviour for people with taste! I would plaster the walls of ears with the latest tips for sounds and how waves upon waves of faces would scream words of no relations to my bearings” he echoed with confused expressions in his voice
“Words like legend and celebrity are words that after a while changed me into an overly zealous character people made out of me”.
Hack paused before frantically scribbling down the Crones words.
“It is easy to get carried away when everybody seems to suck up to this fraud like character” his voice stiffened with a sense of prevailing frustration.
“I used to try and fight the fame bug, but I got bitten once too many” he sighed with a sense of retirement in his voice.
“I used to dance on many a stage, videos splattering my face across the media fronts” he paused
“Sometimes if you believe your own hype it can
affect the way you think”.
“Those are none too true a words,” the Hack said knowingly.
“It is these little words of warning that I will make aware to you Hack,” he said firmly.
“With me it all got pretty obsessive, I even had people building shrines in my name, constant flattery would batter and bate me” he yarned.
“It was at this point when things started to peel and fall apart to pieces” he paused to intake a deep swig of the earthly coffee. “I got too the point where I needed looking after”.
“In what way did you need looking after?” questioned Hack. The Crone Glared at him
“You ever had stalkers Hack? you ever felt the breath of threat Hack?, have you been hated by an entire community Hack?” his voice grew with an intense swelling anger to which Hack limply replied with a wimpish “no”.
“You see Hack! People can change just like the wind, one moment they can be blowing for you and the next they can washing against you, all it needs is a little quip in print here, a bit of misfortune there and with a good dollop of misinformed spewing” he quoted.
“I had to get myself some management to look after the circus of my life! The management in question helped to sort out the business! He always dealt the deadingly punches, pushing me into routines of flashing cameras, mic’s forced into my ailing face and the finances that he dealt with” he said with his dustied eyebrows flaking on the uplifting arches
“I met many people that made my fibre flamed heartburn, I got scorned by the tails with their stings which scolded me with burning scars” he said whilst staring with a certain amount of disparity.
“I got caught trying to spread myself! Being to many things to many public eyes, drawing neglect on those I should have been more tentative in my actions to those I left alone! I should not have let myself be driven by the green monsters behind these eyes,” he said with his voice almost breaking.
“I was so lucky because I had the love of an overly supportive family and I lost that! I lost it against the better judgements of my characteristics” he said with his eyes rimming circles.
“My parents” he paused with a stiffening sigh
“My parents set the stones and mortar for my foundations and gave me financial support which I bled dry and their love turned stone cold!” as his eyes seemed to drift past the Hack in a hazy daydreamed state that he almost seemed lost in.
“I was not the son they expected me to be! I never quite developed in the same way or speed of others. I had an extensive imagination that quite literally alienated me from others” he paused for a stony breath “I often had to invite people into my mental space” he said tapping his head with his spindly finger.
“Humans aren’t all wired the same, some will think I have loose wires” he pause for another intake of breath. “But I had shocks that shook me into place mentally!”
The Hack looked at the pale faded Crone sprawled on the floor becoming even more enthralled by the unravelling words being spun by the Crone’s voice.
“In what way were you shocked? And how did your mentality change?” enquisited Hack.
“Have you ever experienced death? Hack?, Have you ever been re-borne Hack? Because you see Hack I was re-borne, because you see Hack” stated The Crone
“I was re-borne for a good man to make the grave” he paused with an icy silence before continuing “When you have a double whammy of slaps that landed like a serious blow, draining tears of blood”.
His eyes were shaking with streams of emotional water works. The Hack passes out a tissue to try and sponge up the Crones tears. “I lost a friend and a supporter, that gradually shook my roots! Because I heard voices bite out at me, and my family. You see I did originate from these grounds!”
He said wistfully “I uprooted from the country where words travel fast! Peoples yakking mouths can be, quite an evil weapon because teeth can be like daggers,” He said mopping his tears.
“What was it that drew you to this place?” voiced the Hack as the Crones dewy eyes were relocating his history.
“I moved in on this place because of the music, which is something that has always been a driving fire of mine” moped the Crone.
“I burned my passions through rhythmic palpitation’s that I learned to play on the drums” his voice seemed a bit distant in dream mode.
“I was drawn by the whole community atmosphere and the buzz of a city life that I was hidden away from” spoke the Crone.
“I never used to be any good at socialising but that was gradually broken down and fleshed out” he twitched with a slight nervous air to his voice.
“When I lost my friend it was like loosing a vital piece of puzzle that completely fell to pieces” cried his voice
“I mean it was even worst because I had merely just recovered from near death!”
“Do tell me old Crone?” hampered the Hack,
“Do tell you what?” croaked the Crone.
“How You Nearly Died?”
“I was put into a Coma whilst under the knife to deal with my appendix,” sighed the Crone
“Bloody NHS bodge job” he moaned.
“I was nearly 6ft under because of one persons blunder,” he said raising one finger in the air.
“One simple in and out operation ended up with me spending 3 days unconscious and 4 in intensive care, that really helped to sort my head out”.
“How did it sort your head out?” puzzled Hack who raised his eyebrows fixating the stare on the Crone.
“How?” grumbled the Crone “I realised that I was not happy as the person that I was, so hence I gradually opened up to the beats and voices of music! I have always used music as a way to reach out to people” he shuddered.