“One day I will find you, one day you will see me…dreams… beneath the surface there’s a world that no one sees…”
I’m sat at a greasy table, alone, at the KFC on Somerset Road in Cape Town.
‘Anphonic’ is the title of the set mixed by Neil Goosen, AKA DJGoose, which he sent to me in an email.
The driving, climbing beats are musical facsimiles of the beat that pulses through my soul, the rhythm that my heart seeks, the cadence that the energies push me out into the universe with.
Morgan Tweeted that music is as addictive as cocaine. I reTweeted that but don’t agree – it’s FAR more addictive. I can live without the cocaine, without the numbing, hellish mercy it pretends to give – I cannot live without the music.
It is a strange, beneficent, introspective day: I came to Cape Town to attend South Africa’s first-ever official street sex fair. Following the template laid by the hedonistic Fulsome Street Fair in San Francisco, it touts itself as a pan-sexual street celebration of the BDSM culture – and I want in! I have yet to explore the psychology of my BDSM fetish, but superficially, I resonate with the subjugation, domination, and the overt restraint of an overt and unrestrained sexuality.
I met a work mate and his significant other, we were hoping to buy some leather gear for the Lady Gaga concert in December, none was on offer for sale.
I met Helen, for the first time, since coming clean about my dirty drug days, and I was worried we’d have nothing in common anymore, that my damage would have put pay to our friendship. Helen has walked her own painful journey to her personal freedom, and we are good, I think. It was good to see her.
I met Gareth, who had a stand at the Cobern Street Fair, and found a soul on a journey that courses with much pain, for such a peaceful soul – it overwhelmed me to see the mention of a painful, personal topic bring the man to a very raw, hurt place – I wanted to reach out, but like I said – I was overwhelmed – by the setting? By the sexuality pervading the atmosphere? By the emotional storm raging just beneath the surface of Gareth’s persona? Not sure. All of these, or none of them. I feel like I walked away, when I could have stayed and talked. But then – is that not an insult – an arrogance too far? To think I can just arrive, introduce myself, and lay down a shoulder to cry on – and then what? I don’t know – I don’t know. I am not done, though, I feel a very strong attraction to this man, this being called Gareth. I want to reach out – but in a way that gives Gareth real help, real peace – am I qualified? Does he even want it? It cannot be a place of co-dependency – his need and my needing to be needed driving us further down our own personal rabbit holes.
The music is slow, now, this ‘Anphonic’ Neil has me listening to. Stark piano notes and electro riffs course up my spine, into my head, searing across my brain: a beat wells up, and the rhythm is back, flying, accelerating, pulsing away from the open wounds I’ve just scratched at – this is good – the scratching, that is. I am calm and yet I am…not…sore, but not soaring away in the music either. I normally let it drive the voices that hurt me so much away, but I can control them, now, here – is it the music? It probably is helping, allowing me to dip under the surface, scratch the river of sentiments I ignored these many years.
So, calm, and away from being overwhelmed – yes – the recommendation to meet Gareth was a good one – he is a strong, powerful soul. I feel that our meeting has something more to it than an acquaintance through an old school mate – there are journeys that sometimes intercept, even if only for the briefest of moments, and we build on, from there, from each other, as we travel our time-lines, weaving a history, divining the future.
This is life. It is real. I am Dave. I am real, and I can feel, again.
Ah. Breathe. Be…be at peace! Be grateful! Be alive! Be.
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