Nomadic reverie

I find myself feeling a bit tired and drained. Christmas yesterday was an odd one. I ate my dinner with a table of various friends, I sang some songs in the restaurant to ensure a rather overpriced turkey dinner (which frankly wasn’t all that) was without cost and it all seemed a bit strange. Didn’t feel very Christmassy. I didn’t play any Christmas songs (I don’t know any) and decorations were minimal. Ahh, it was nice though. I had my own little family, and I guess the collective nostalgia made everyone that little more lovely.

Following the meal I went over to another restaurant and the plan was to go to some trance party. And before you know it I’ve got the guy from the restaurant coming over and saying, “can you stop playing, it’s 5am.” Oops. So, we didn’t make the party. Besides, a really nice Swedish guy I just met returned from the party visibly shaken. He just couldn't understand these ego-obsessed, macho, aggressive British people who just wanted to get drunk and dance to some pointless beat. He told me that he was used to 'gentle' people. 'Nice people'. Sweden, he tells me, has more of these.

I have to leave here very soon. Maybe I find a quieter beach, and try to regain some creativity or will power. I have enjoyed the opportunity to play some 'gigs' and have a taste of what it feels like to be a professional musician. I am just being sucked into enforced mediocrity. Booze really doesn’t help. I am trying to be writing songs every day but nothing comes out here. I just sit on the beach and just make notes about thongs. Or sand. Or frizbees. Or the sky. But my brain feels empty. I’m not making connections. Look, I can’t even write anything vaguely interesting for my blog. I suppose being here is kinda fun – but it’s expensive fun and it’s predictable fun. It feels adolescent. I've done all this shit before. My existence, despite luxury and decadence is maybe just a bit boring. It doesn’t feel real here. Real fun is out in India where booze is an occasional luxury and music is special treat.

And despite my reputation of being some kind of nomadic rock legend and my nickname ‘Dylan’ I haven’t managed to kiss one girl here. I just can’t quite be bothered. There's too many. Where do I start? It would actually involve speaking to one for a prolonged period of time for me to actually achieve any result. And it would probably make me stay here longer. Besides, chicks on holiday are boring.

Man, listen to me.

Right, I leave here and I find somewhere to inspire me. It’s kind of obvious now that I've just thought about it.

So, everyone have a nice Christmas? A different one I guess.