Morning After.. (Day Four plus One)
Today my alarm clock goes off at six twenty. A sharp contrast with the past four days. Then I was allowed to awake without the soft but imperative New Age sounds from my timed early morning tunes.
It is the day after the Twenthe Guitar festival, the dreaded Morning After. The return to the every-day reality.
I go through my morning ritual, get dressed and drag myself to the breakfast table. A glance on the stereo equipment shows me that the CD player is still switched on. The case of the Sampler of the Twenthe Guitar Festival 2010 (a nice bonus for a supporter) lies on top of the player. I examine the the jewel case and study the names on the back.
Morning After... In common language this is the term for the pill which is intended to thwart the consequences of a passionate union. The very moment that ratio and conventio regain the terrain they had lost to passion, as a consequence of the fear that the same passion of fusing might repeat itself on mini-micro-miniature level deep inside the womb.
But... Morning After also means a sense of hangover which almost naturally arises if you have to resume normal life after a period of carefree enjoyment. No, the hangover is not caused by booze. If it did I would have to become drunk of Chaudfontaine (Cafe SamSam’s version of the fizzling water Spa Rouge).
A hangover. That’s the correct description for my mood this morning. In fact I should pick up my guitar and start singing the blues with a voice which resembles Louis Armstrong’s. Just like we did in Jim ten Boske’s groove workshops..
“I woke up this morning... oh yeah../I woke up this morning.../I woke up this morning... oh yeah.... /and I just found that it was the morning after..”
Yet... I do not want the passion of the last days to be outstripped by everyday ratio. I would like to keep her a while, cherish it, the pastel shades in sound, the screaming strings, the contact, the solidarity and the love for music everywhere in the air.
Cycling to work, I can not stop musing. Yet I am watchful, because I am in the middle of traffic and a few years ago I found out that falling from the bike on the ground is a long and painful way if you are not prepared. Part of me is alert, just like Snoes, our pussycat who often looks like sleeping but nevertheless dashes away with every sign of danger.
Four days of Twenthe Guitar Festival 2010. The lustrum edition.
In the mean time I steadily cycle towards my workplace. After climbing the bank of a bridge I take a look across the Twenthekanaal, a famous waterway in my district. A few anglers are staring at their floats and an early oarsman splits the waves with his skiff.
Cycling downhill, the solution for the hangover occurs to me. A few cups of coffee and the start of this story, the report of the Twenthe Guitar Festival 2010. A lovely opportunity to recall all those moments..
So now we go back in time...