Split Ends

SPLIT ENDS

Peter Richard Adams

…ok, my left eye is pushed open and the light is so bright that it takes a while to readjust. When it settles I can see the ceiling. It’s not my ceiling. It looks more like a ceiling in an office or a hospital or something. The glaring halogen strip lighting is really intense. Plus I’ve never liked those square ceiling panels. Chip board? Polystyrene? Horrible. Reminds me of school. I can hear a woman off to my right.

“… this week. Full on cortex circulation. It’s like a loop or… well more like a corridor with no doors. Or several corridors. I don’t know. He’s completely fucked though so it must be something wrong with the 0.6 upgrade. I could send the company an email I suppose but who would listen? Or care? Since when was it the place of the Health Service to comment on private industry? I’ve got…”

…now there’s two of my ex girlfriends in here and they’re both kissing and fooling around with each other. This is fantastic! I didn’t even think they’d get on. Emily’s even dressed as a Police Woman although I’m pretty sure you’d get fired if you actually wore that in a law enforcement facility. My god it makes her breasts look amazing. Why not slip out of it now? And push Jean’s bum in the air while you’re at it… ok… ok…

…no, the problem I have with the music of Indigo Jones is not just their insipid and lackluster “performance” �" something that even the most die hard of shoegaze fans would find so disinteresting they’d it would be necessary to snort several lines before they even mustered the willpower to get out of bed on the morning of the concert �" but the fact that, for the entire concert, despite being 20 songs deep there doesn’t appear to be one moment where there’s a noticeable chorus, melody, tune or even hook…

…in summary the issue with the Robhelm estate is that incidences of Anti-Social Behaviour have tripled in the time since the retrofit. Counter intuitively, rather than making this a nicer place to live for all residents it has actually created a ‘them and us’ climate between owner-occupiers and those that have retained their social tenancies…

…how long has she been talking now?

“I know I said it was a just a craze �" something only students would use to cram for exams but I was completely wrong, alright?”

The same cold, disgusting, sterile ceiling is getting on my nerves. I’d close my eye if I could.

“It’s like any technology, it seems to get pushed by porn and the economics of work… And these splitters do all of those. Concentrate on several things at once, ghettoize your brain, download the results later and don’t come crying to me if your lobotomise yourself through a circulation… Hell, if you’re going to be splitting a couple of times for different things you’re working on then why not split again for a nice nap? Or crack one off? After all it’s totally work safe. Bang away. I’m telling you Jeanie, no matter how much they pressure us to get the admin done there’s no way I’m pushing a splitter into my ear, especially not a 6.0…”

…and now John from work is here. That’s interesting. I didn’t even know I’d be into that but when in Rome eh? Yeah sure… why don’t we high five… This feels pretty good. Go on Emily… Go on… And why not get the weather girl from Channel 16 involved with that as well. That’s great…

…full marks should be awarded to the technical team for at least attempting to bring an element of a show to the most turgid, spectacular mess I’ve ever seen. Indigo Jones are the sort of tuneless dirge that gives tuneless dirge a bad name. That said, I can only suggest the tech team do themselves a favour and remove this contract from their collective CV. After all, s**t sticks… especially to those doing their best to clean it up…

…those that have purchased their properties are more likely to complain about those that have not, while those that have lived on the estate for a generation or more are increasingly likely to counter accuse or even retaliate with actual ASB. The issue here is certainly largely one of perception, yet personal perception is at the heart of creating a thriving community…

…my god it is so cold in here. And I’m hard. I can feel that I’m hard. And naked. But mostly I’m just cold.

“Ok, Williams let’s make this one quick. It’s passed three and I haven’t had lunch yet.”

“Well Doctor, I’d say it’s another circular lobotomisation that’s just been sent down here because they don’t know what else to do with him.”

“And what do they expect us to do?”

“Sign the chit so they have a clear conscience I expect.”

“Who is he?”

My eye is open again. Hell, that’s so bright it’s painful…

“Francis James. He’s a freelance writer from Walthamstow. No next of kin on file. No registered work place although he writes for a number of the news sites. Specialises in music and, get this �" housing! That’s an odd mix. Seems that he…”

“No next of kin?”

“Sorry?”

“You said no next of kin?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I have no issue signing it off at all. We’re not going to bring him back. Bag, burn and for God’s sake let’s get some lunch…”

…this is nuts… I’m sure I’ve considered this sort of thing in the past but I never actually thought it might take place! There’s just naked bodies everywhere! Grunting, panting, sweating, thrusting and oh good lord that feels good! I didn’t even know I was into that. Ok sweetheart, a few more quick jerks and I think we’ll be… oh that’s hot…

…so Indigo Jones. You’ve got a rare 1/5 (although that solitary one still seems generous). Seriously readers, if you’re looking for a night out there’s a hundred better bands playing in local venues all over the country every night of the week. Spend the £25 you would have paid seeing this major label slush on supporting your local scene because I assure you the mainstream is no longer on the side of the punter. Screw you Indigo Jones! You’ve burned…

…meaning that, in conclusion, the Robhelm Estate needs an intensive housing management plan put into place with immediate effect. Tailored, and professional mediation between parties is necessary if we are to prevent riots such as we witnessed last summer. Emphasis must be put upon an approach that does not lead to streets burning…

…what is that I can feel it against my skin? It started out like a prickle at first but now it’s spreading out all over my back and arms like a rash… I can feel it against my face too. It’s dark in here but there’s definitely something flickering. Perhaps if I try and look to my left I can make out… I can make out… Fire! Oh God this room is on fire! Won’t someone help? Please? I can’t move. I can’t open my mouth. Help! Help me! Why can’t I scream? Won’t someone… My face… I can feel it on my face… It’s melting my face… Can’t someone please? I’m burning… I’m burning alive…