Dreadlock holiday

27.01.05


We’ll put on a new piece based on improvisations. At first, I was happy to participate again in the municipal theatrical group. I was happy until they told us that we’ll have rehearsals twice a week. They’ll kill us again. And yet this professionalism and this responsibility do have some sense. The performances are organized for June. There’s not much time until then. I just wonder if I should sound the alarm, since I still haven’t handed out my dissertation; and I should be stressed but I’m not. But then again, why should I struggle to feel stressed anyway?

Something else makes me doubt: my work on things that I did at the age of 18 raises questions. Is it possible that I am becoming a kiddo again? Is it possible that I’m looking for new tricks among old ones? Is it possible that I’m still a teenager? Is it possible that my dog is way more mature than I am? My dog knows what he wants. He wants to play, sleep and eat. He has no inhibitions. He doesn’t go to concerts. He doesn’t think how cool it would be to have a band; neither does he write any lyrics. I did all that stuff years ago. I still go to concerts. Some times I look at the younger guys who go crazy and I say: ‘Wow! The world hasn’t changed at all in the end.’. I thought the same thing about those who work with me in the theatrical group when I saw them the day before yesterday. They’re all as I left them the last time. Is this good or bad, I wonder?

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe all of them have changed and I haven’t understood that. They’ve certainly changed. It’s not like I care about what happens to the others. I just try to see my signs of progress by observing the changes in those who surround me. No matter how strange it may seem, my fellow humans comprise elements of my external surroundings when they are perceived as subjects for observation. In other times, people are bridges for me and they unite my present with my past of my future. I remember them the way I remember a characteristic summer tune in deep winter.

Suddenly, I am singing 10cc and Dreadlock Holiday. I turn back time a little bit but I am advancing:

I was walkin’ down the street
Concentratin’ on truckin’ night
I heard a dark voice beside of me
And I looked round in a state of fright
I saw four faces one mad
A brother from the gutter
They looked me up and down a bit
And turned to each other

I say, I don’t like cricket oh no, I love it
I don’t like cricket no no, I love it

Don’t you walk thru’ my words
You got to show some respect
Don’t you walk thru’ my words
‘Cause you ain’t heard me out yet

Well he looked down at my silver chain
He said he’ll give you one dollar
I said you’ve got to be jokin’ man
It was a present from me Mother
He said I like it I want it
I’ll take it off your hands
And you’ll be sorry you crossed me
You’d better understand that you’re alone
A long way from home

And I say, I don’t like reggae no no, I love it
I don’t like reggae, I love it

Don’t you cramp me style
Don’t you queer me pitch
Don’t you walk thru’ my words
‘Cause you ain’t heard me out yet

I hurried back to the swimming pool
Sinkin’ Pena Calarda
I heard a dark voice beside me say
Would you like something harder
She said I’ve got it you want it
My harvest is the best
And if you try it you’ll like it
And whollow in a Dreadlock Holiday

And I say, Don’t like Jamaica oh no, I love her
Don’t like Jamaica oh no, I love her oh yeah
Don’t you walk thru’ her words
You got to show some respect
Don’t you walk thru’ her words
‘Cause you ain’t heard her out yet

I don’t like cricket, I love it
Dreadlock holiday, I don’t like reggae, I love it
Dreadlock holiday, Don’t like Jamaica, I love her
Dreadlock holiday.