California Screaming.

This very second I am laying on top of my surrogate bed in L.A writhing with pain.. dosing up on an insane amount of meds whilst the sun is slowly ticking through the corner of the shaded windows. I'm by myself and I have listened to the same song over and over and over again. Although "listen" isn't right... it's more just trying to distract from the pain, I don't think i've listened to it once since I first begun this "song cycle".
Let's rewind some.

It's been a truly strange strange week.

One of the strangest I've had in a long time.

Last week I had to go to Paris to make my French T.V debut on Taratata.
Nerve-wracking. But fantastic. Red trousers on red seats may have been a mistake... but we're young right? Anyhow..
One of the basis('s?) of Taratata is you perform a duet that is a cover version. I did "Close To Me" by The Cure with the band Tunng. Amazing guys, was great fun.

I decided I wanted to stay longer in Paris, to try and clear my head, whether I could afford it or not as I had just under a week of free time before I had to be back to L.A and as of the last couple months, honestly? I've been an emotional wreck, this my friends, is the irony of writing a record titled "Life Is Sweet! Nice To Meet You." a year before it gets released, you just don't know what is going to happen in your life...
The plan would be to go home to NY, sleep in my own bed for two nights then head out to L.A to finish work on the Theophilus music i've been producing, and then finish off the Blood Orange record.
Paris would be my alone time trying to work out the inner mechanics of my mind, because of late, due to circumstances, I have truly lost it... no details. It's gone.
Time passes.
Time to leave.
Heathrow.
Miss my flight. Kicked out the Airport.

Rewind some.

I turn up at Heathrow. The electronic check in doesn't seem to be working. Instead of asking if New York is my destination. It says that my destination is either, Lagos, Dubai, Hong Kong or Japan... it's none of those.

So I get in the que.. fast forward 40 odd minutes, it's not moving
Fuck.
I get into the information desk.
In front of me is an African man who has the wrong surname booked on his ticket. The woman at the desks asks him why, he says he doesn't know. She then asks if he's changed his last name, he responds with no..
I see the look of tiredness on the woman's face as she leaves her desk to go and find another colleague. My time is running out..

I run to the "Gate Closing" check in.

I put my passport forward.

"Sorry, flight closed."

"What are you talking about?" I respond.

"The flight is closed. You've missed it."

"It clearly haven't, it's 10 to 6 right now, and my plane leaves at 7:10.. and it's late".

"Sorry these are the rules, we have a lot to do before it leaves."

"But I only have hand luggage, I can literally be on the plane in 5 minutes..."

"Sorry, but no."

I rub my eyes... feel my heating temples.

"Okay.. well, when's the next flight?" I ask.

"Well, there's the same flight but tomorrow..." She says. I think to myself, I guess that works, I can race from JFK airport to pack my luggage then just race straight back to get my flight to L.A.. I concede.

"Okay cool, I'll take that flight."

"Okay, that will be £525..."

I pause / freeze. I rub my temples some more...

"Excuse me.. what are you talking about?"

"That's how much it will cost you."

"No, it won't cost me anything... my flight is still on the ground, just let me on it."

"No we can't."

Longer pause...
I'm thinking to myself....
Eventually I say "Look, I don't really understand, I need to be on this flight, and it's not leaving for quite some time, I literally don't even understand what is happening here.. I just have hand luggage, this is insane..."

The woman, not looking at me then turns to me, and in the most patronizing tone connoting her lack of interest or care in the situation, simply says...

"Sorry, what?"

That was it. The catalyst to this story.

Everything, from the last month, all the shit that has been building up inside... was about to subtly spill out.
I looked at her, I demanded my passport back.. she took her time, I slammed my phone on the desk, snatched my passport from her hand.
Stared at her some more. Turned around, picked up the nearest trolley, and threw it into the machine. Then went to walk out.
One of the floor managers (I can then only presume in his cheap grey suit) then declares out loud quite a distance from me in this busy airport (to try and save face..)
"Oh that was big, very clever..."

I stop in my tracks, I turn and look at him.. his he realllyyy doing this? Right now? Really??

I walk up to him slowly, middle finger cocked in the air in front of me, I then slowly place it onto his fore head. And declare in a very sharp tone that if he knows what's good right now, he should well, and truly "Fuck Off".

Fast forward and I'm escorted off the premises. fuck.

I end up booking a flight straight to L.A, no home time, I have 3 shirts to my name until 5 days before tour, which is like the 20th April.

I'm in L.A, my legs are aching sightly, my face is swelling, an abscess is forming.. i'm ignoring these things, my gums are swelling.. I ignore this also, my gums then start filling with pus and blood... normal, surely, minor toothache. my neck and glands are swollen, it's nothing. Light headed-ness and aches... i'm fine, just take tons of painkillers.. great feeling.
Next morning... well, my mouth isn't hurting, I still feel everything else, and I guess I shouldn't ignore the giant abscess on my face,

I google maps a hospital, and take myself in.

They do check ups x-rays, tests e.t.c and tell me to come back in a couple hours.
I come back. Here's what's up.
A couple years ago I had a tooth infection, which then whilst on tour in europe spread and turned into a blood infection, leaving me in a wheelchair and on crutches for some time,that's how bad it was.
You can feel it all over you, obviously. It's blood, duh. The recovery is pretty brutal consisting of tons of amoxicillin, painkillers and penicillins to right your blood and kill all the pain at the same time.
Well guess what kids? Correct, it was making a comeback. They said the only way to fix this is to have emergency surgery. Keep in mind i'm by myself right now, and google mapped a hospital on my phone. No one knows i'm even here.
I go for the surgery.. under general anesthetic, completely awake. worst.

The infection's core is at the back of the right side of my throat deep in my gums, it has to go before it wreaks havoc on my body again. They hack away at my gums, and then tear out four teeth, all from that same region. It took quite some time, especially as a couple teeth apparently did not want to leave.

Procedure finished, biting on a gauze. My money truly in the minus from all of the above (rent is due back in NY... fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck e.t.c.) I'm not allowed to spit for 24 hours. Safe to say I guess I was not going to be recording any Blood Orange vocals for the next couple of days.
I need to pick up the ton of drugs I have to now take. Why is L.A so spread out? I have quite a walk ahead of me..

The lack of being able to spit is pretty awful. The l.a heat is pouring on top of me as I sweat and walk, fresh from the hospital.. taking steps to cock my head whilst blood slowly pours out of my mouth.. I collapse on the side of a building and just sit on the floor.. apparently in my mind. This is the right time to have an overdue emotionally intense phone conversation. Taking breaths to turn my head and empty more blood. A hobo walks past me giving me a sympathetic look.

Here I am, the next morning... about to walk to the studio to record some more guitar tracks, distractions, musical distractions. Very helpful. i'm pretty jacked up right now, I don't even know what I feel, in my mind, or in my body. If i'm honest, it's nothing. Nothing at all. (except constant emotional and complete physical pain of course).

It happens I guess.

(Photo by Fred Macpherson)