Maybe you went to University, accepted onto a course that cost thousands of pounds, when you did your additions, having spent the lot on traveling between semesters. History of Art, English Literature, mechanical engineering or any other course of your choice. Maybe you went to freshers week, finding the location and people refreshing. Maybe you worked as a clerk during your twenties and progressed to Administrator, the paperwork of so much form filling bureaucracy, small spaces you can hardly explain yourself, or be legible inside.
Maybe on the weekend you dressed to kill at Fabric, powders that brewed plots, make up that was unrelentingly you.
Maybe on your weekend you huddled at the bar with your mates, maybe you were a tea coloured Asian drinking Perrier whilst you drove your mates home, always being an example of goodness and teetotal.
Maybe you smoked sheesha, taking after the Arabian princes, you as firey as a gun, the mist in Zu’s, the Moroccan decor turquoise, eating chicken shawarmas over donners. Maybe the graffiti artists who were accosted sprayed wildly the words ‘virgin zone’ for their own code of values we don’t know. Maybe the Pride and Prejudice gallantry of Mr Darcy style introductions were lost in other parts of London, but this was East London, not West.
Maybe the businessmen were shrewd, though this was the area that produced James Caan the millionaire, a standard of integrity, perhaps. Yet they spoke of limited goods, that you should purchase from a good friend – the business partner, passing on his number in city slickness.
Maybe as soon as you saw an alpha male you asked him the price of his Pumas, seeing who was cotching in his ride. Maybe you were listening to grime on the estate full of vitality, getting your hands dirty in the city. The grime atmospheric and gothic. You got promoted and start listening to the upmarket jazz your laidback employer, an executive at the firm listened to on suede and leather headphones.
Maybe you stayed at home with old teddies, your imagination spread out on the dog-eared page, reading historical fiction. Maybe you were in the Boleyn, playing pool wondering how you would escape the dive in your small group of friends’ pretension, listening to old Smiths records.
Maybe you staggered in drunk off your head on Stella Artois, in halls at 3am, your room full of posters affixed to the walls of Radiohead, of The Verve, of Starsailor. Maybe the music came alive when you were bright eyed and drunk, as if you could get inside the music.
Maybe you travelled a lone wolf to the wildernesses of South America drinking Ayahuasca tea feeling close to nature and the tribal spirit.
Stealing expensive price tags, in your community service you were tagged on the ankle tracking your movements, when the beat showed up arms of the law and fists of the law banging on the door, with clubs on entry, thumping house music turned down. You were sold on the advertisers quick fix, images of what took years to acquire in a snapshot or framed on some Instagram picture.
Maybe you were on company days off throwing stones into the sea at the beach and your impact the concentric rings expanded beyond your circle in London, your presence felt you were a stones throw away from the company headquarters, at the the hub, you were promoted to further departments. Your curriculum vitae your virtue was filled with skills and experience, nothing was Greek to you, you changed roles, you always played the clown.
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© Zubyre Parvez 2016 All Rights Reserved WRITER BIO: Zubyre Parvez (BA hons) studied English Literature at Hertfordshire University. He writes song lyrics, poetry, short stories, reviews, and articles for The Taoist Crucible. His poetry won runners up in a competition judged by Simon Armitage and Margaret Atwood. His poetry has been published in Kobita. His articles have appeared in The Epoch Times as a journalist for the newspaper. He has worked for New Tang Dynasty Television as a journalist. You can catch up with his tweets @TheEaghams
ARTIST BIO:The Eaghams aka Zubyre Parvez is an Urban Indie singer songwriter from London. His song The Roots was played on BBC 1Xtra by DJ Excalibuh. He has collaborated with artists such as Mr Hectic and Jason Air formerly of Island records. He has played at The Garage, and various open mics.