In my younger more Bohemian days as I would try and stay whatever course there was to stay I had a friend who’s couch I would seek out on occasion, especially if things were getting too heady in my world.
She would never lock me out and always had such lovely cooling towels to place on my fevered brow. I would sit there or lay there and drink tea and talk too much. Tea was always Earl Grey with lemon and in china tea cups with shortbread. The room was generally dimly lit, often with a turquoise scarf draped over the lamp.
At some point she would groan and mutter the immortal lines, “it’s late and I want to listen to Klaus…” Then she would turn off the lights, light the candles and make me lay very still on the floor. Usually I would at some point in the rhythmic, melodic world of Klaus Schulze fall asleep or at least quieten down enough to allow her to to rest.
In the morning there would be eggs and beans and toast, and a hug as I left for the next adventure.
There are some people who may be contemporary but appear to be wiser more worldly and with more grace than we are. In my kitchen cupboard there is a plain white china tea cup she gave me when we left for the USA, occasionally I take it down when my world has got too heady for me, put a cool cloth on my forehead and sip Earl Grey with lemon.
So whenever I play Klaus Schulze it is at night, and somewhere in my subconscious I get the lingering smell of patchouli, candle wax and henna and Earl Grey tea. There is the rustle of cotton skirts in the mix and the clink of a china tea cup on a saucer.
At some point as I sat here on the eve of December I had the thought, “it’s late and I want to listen to some Klaus…” so I did. This evening it was Cyborg.