Monday 22nd September 2003
I wonder what I'm meant to be writing here . . . "What's his name, Jim?
"His name's Jimmy Breeze."
"Jimmy Breeze?"
"You've reached four sev . . . [beep beep] Hello?
"Hello?"
"Yeah, what's up?
"Is this Jimmy Breeze?"
"Yeah"
"Yeah, well, we're . . . we're looking for a rhythm guitar player . . . "
"Okay"
". . . for my band."
"Okay, sounds good."
"What do you look like? I . . . Would you look good holding a guitar?"
"Oh yeah. Yeah"
"We have specific suits. We wear leather pants and, er, a red and black Michael Jackson suede jacket."
"Uhm . . . no, I don't have a problem with that, man."
Later that day . . . we found a good vantage point . . .
"Whoa - check out the sun. That's moving way too fast."
"Or maybe this planet's rotating too fast."
"Yeah, alright, whatever, but, erm . . . no, that ain't right. Did it always do that?"
"I don't think so."
"Where's the radio gone?"
"Radio?"
"You know . . . erm . . ."
"We don't have a radio. Do you mean the . . . "
"The communication thingy. I need to check we got the co-ordinates right."
"No, this is definitely the right place. I used to have dreams like this."
"Yeah? I wonder . . . nope, looks okay."
"What you doing?"
"The hands, you look at your hands."
"What for?"
"Hands never look right if you're dreaming. This must be real."
"Yeah, but I don't remember that thing being in the sky."
"Looks like a ferris wheel."
"But made in a sort of spastic, Meccano kind of way, don't you think?"
"I guess. God . . . that must be huge. Who would build something like that, and why all the lights?"
|