Discipline is the road to freedom

that’s where it happened really happened where one thing ended and another began i suppose which is the case with all bridges but this was a case of death and life cause and effect the end of the beginning which had been beginning for half a century and reached that terrible euphoria that morning half way between one cathedral and another it happened like this; i died and was reborn. i’d seen it the first time with jimmy wainwrights dog i forget its name all jimmy had to do was look at his newspaper rolled up on the vinyl arm of his chair that dogs back legs would dip and slink out he door he would with a broken look back eyes cast i’d not seen anything like it how dyou do that jimmy well you beat the fuck out of it when its a pup and you’ve got it trained for life he said like epsom alan a few years later who’s jack russell tripod never ever left his side how dyou do it alan well son you wank em off when there pups and they know whats what you’ve got a friend for life see well i didn’t see and at that time in my life i didn’t make the connection between jimmy’s mongrel tripod and me i’d been feeling fucking terrible for weeks months years but recently really bad like random worn out and out of the blue acid filling me up and blocking out all thought i’d be on the street and stopped in my tracks lean up against a wall stagger to a bench and what the hell more and more frequent it was i’d made all these changes yet worse and worse it got then one day i’m on the bike and i’m steering the thing and it’s not going in the direction i want and all my power is gone i’m all drained out from the shoulders the arms no longer mine what the hell christ so it’s a beautiful blue london morning and the trolleys loaded up i tend to bounce back pretty quick you know one day into the other and though these bad body interludes had been hassling and hindering in moments they’d pass and i’d move on so the air is fresh and i’m on the way by foot to st pauls and the old 76 to hackney how many times had i walked that walk i loved that walk if the time was on my side i’d do the whole thing on shanks’s pony but what with the trolley loaded up and a job to do a stroll over the river would have to do it within minutes of setting out oh man that feeling again this time i’m on fire and then – reaching the apex of the bridge scotts masterpiece behind wren’s before – it happened like a steam locomotive or a smelting foundry or stamping machine expanding and contracting in a whirlwind of revolutions filling flooding the thorax all energy sapped in an instant of burning suffocating expansion i couldn’t breath and the overwhelming desire to be alone swept over me like an horrendous glorious mighty wave i turned to the west and draped myself over the railings it was almost high tide but on the turn heading out to tilbury and i felt the rising sun across my back leave me alone staring into the water this river so many times on long black nights before i’d made plans to fill myself with morphine and dive in off of the blackfriars stone protruding pulpits and now i was here but the wrong time wrong bridge wrong fuckin morning and those immediate thoughts were to be left alone the idea of one of those trainer footed suits coming anywhere near me i remember bringing on the most bitter nausea just leave me alone leave me alone leave me to work out what the hell is going on here in my body in this moment and there then in a flashing awakening instant i got it – i’m dying – and everything was completely fine – i’m dying – and this is nothing – i’m dying – i’m here this is it and i like it. i stared into the water as my torso entered the mangle and the world behind me walked on by no one gave a fuck they neither noticed nor cared i was alone and that’s the way i wanted it to be not bothered no concern just lost in that moment glimpses of the river turning swirling arabesques flashing this way and that lights and no lights shimmering scales the serpent twisting drawing me in no care no thought just a blissful sense of relief the pain was wondrous the fire cooling the fear what fucking fear just that all consuming no thought no feeling no time no self nothing no thing everything all other things were over there was no time and then out of no thing a flickering sense of the bridge above the river and the tide high and turning and a bliss and in a moment after how many moments a sharp sudden inhalation acrid flames direct from the dragons mouth shot into my throat and exploded my lungs and again and again and i felt the railing across my chest lifting undulating legs jellied beneath me and i fell spiraling turning through some steel tube forever and ever and ever i could move i raised my head northward it was twenty minutes past seven i saw that on the clock face the sun on my back there were people people dreaded people still there but they meant nothing even less now they just were and i, just was. and all i could think of was heading back home as quickly as possible and painting what had just occurred but first discipline being the road to freedom i had to get to hackney and tosh out a hallway and khasi.