At first I just thought I just liked your coat. I wouldn’t leave you alone, you was outside a club at 3am trying to flyer on Mansfield Road. I preposed I'll give em out in one minute and then you just talk to me.

I fell for you on pingers in a bath after being up all night. And on ketamine walking down Gloucester Road after being up all night and day. And again on acid after buying the biggest pizza we had ever seen. You looked so so satisfied but I couldn’t eat it, as it was talking. You sent me out to get it in the dark and I couldn’t tell which washing lines was real and which was in my head, so I had to crawl on the floor. I still see washing lines sometimes when its too dark. And again watching you spend a long time throwing up in a plastic bag coming up on 2C-I. With the Netto bag full of both our sick we ran down the stairs and out into Görlitzer Park and couldn’t stop laughing, literally couldn’t stop. I did think of those cartoon catchers that laughed themselves to death. I did wonder. I take you to the fuck parade and as we turn the corner to find all the rigs and lights on wheels you look so glad. All this may sound like a drug a log but, if I have learned anything from gender, and diaspora, it is there is nothing wrong with romanticism. The best thing was we didn’t have any idea about who or what we where at all. We were nobodies.

You took me to the countryside you grew up in. You showed me the church and the big old tree with a hollow, set alone form the rest. I said is there an old big rock with water going through it too? You said, yeh how did you know? I said John Steinbeck- to a god unknown.

One night after a typical jungalist mash up, you find out I am a secret trance veteran. I see you look at me for the first time as something more deep and mysterious than the current plot line of me as someone unmatched in this world only, at my ability to chain smoke. Another time you play disco and I realise there is a lot more going on inside of you than some twenty one year old who looses anything not tied to him. I knew then somehow you did not fear any part of yourself. You have no ego. Things just blow past you, I guess thats cause your an air sign. We went down in everyone else eyes, not for being the most wasted people, but liking truly shameful genres.

Once a friend saw us after we went out for food and they said, you both had food on your face don't you talk to each other? We looked at each other, as if for the first time- and we hadn’t noticed. And I will say that every time I look at you, it is as if for the first time. And that you are still as mysterious as when I just thought I liked your coat.

You reminded me that I could believe in love so much that I thought it could never end. That nothing ever ends, even though a million things, as in everything, say it can. We could never be separate and yet that day did come. What the hell. Nobody told me that if I quit smoking, which I had done everyday since 13, everything that happened since then would all pop out, in a hell realm precession. reliving all that happened in full techno colour, and derailing my life.

We talked about getting Eartha Kitts name as a tattoo. Because we love her song where is my man? so much. After finding it on a mix CD from your find who said its what he plays in the clubs, for men to get sweaty on each other. And we went to Tasmania which is know for turning pollys into monogs. On the plain I saw in your eyes it was over, maybe before you even, and I went to the toilet to pray for it to end well. We arrive on new years eve so of course within 24 hours of being in Australia we are doing the thing I least wanted to do - wander thought the outback, not on any paths, in the dark, flowing the sound of a free party off in the distance. Me hoping not to tread on a poisonous creatures.

Two weeks in to the trip you still did not say anything. So I told you it’s time to read your tarot. You said you don’t want to. I say there is no reason to fear the future. So you agree. The cards come out. You admit it has to end. You then give me that Eartha kitt tattoo. And we realise it's her birthday and that we met on this day seven years ago.

I drink my last drink in Shanghai airport on the way home two weeks later. On the flight I realise it is the end- the end of the end. I try to tell you. This it the end! You’re too sleepy and pull a why-are-you-talking-to-me-now face, so I go back to the watching the flight path.

And when we fell out everything was wrong. And I was so sick and I had lost all the hope totally. And everything in my life was getting worse and worse, it was unstoppable. I stopped writing you letters cause I was on a life and death errand.

After about two years of that, we had another one of those round in circles chats and I looked at you and how you believed in me, I thought you was deluded cause I was BS and it was just a lie. You was desperate for me to see it.

The next time we meet, too close for comfort to a fuck off line of plod, because I pick my moments so well, I have a mini breakdown and start crying and telling you in needed to have surgery. You reassure me it’ll be alright. I can’t see any way that it’s ever going to all be alright.

The next time we meet you give me that look again. I just felt sorry for you believing in me. But then, for some reason I really looked at your face, as if for the first time, and I decide I believe what you believe about me. We made up and it was 22:22 on February 2nd 2022. The world shrunk back to a normal size that night while I slept, and everything got better from then.

Once you confessed you thought I was so good at taking drugs and you wished you was- and it was a weird moment cause I thought that exact thing about you. Like, had we been competing? It's like we never really did talk to each other.

Some months later I was on morphine in the hospital, where you took me but we was not together anymore, just family. And I had had my surgery and when I came round I couldn’t remember if it was next week or last week, but I settled on this week. And I thought I was you, so I went to look for your body to get in it. Then I remembered I was me. So I went to myself and waited in my chest till I woke up proper. I thought we was the same person. I couldn’t understand why we was in two separate places. I was so confused, I said just wait here dud am sure it’ll all make sense again soon. I guess all those k holes paid off.

A dream happens in a second like an epiphany, but can seem like it takes ages to unfold in yer head. So it can feel long long long. A genre is like a dream, what lands in the world in only a moment but feels like it goes on for ages. A speck what gets unpacked, over a three years or a decade. Till all the bits are seen that was there in the first seed.

Timelines are leaky too. I used to think a story being similar to another was a sign it was not true. I was so wrong. For instance I know I had years of nits because part of me was a kid in World War Two. Not just because my mum would not so much as even look at my head for years. And I know that I feel the most love I can because part of me is in New York in the 70s falling in love with the world, as if it had never been loved before. I know I met you there for the first time. And I can hear the feet on the dance floor and I can feel when I died there too young in my bed with you looking after me. And you're still sad and I don't want you to be anymore. Cause its not gonna end that way this time.

After everything that happened I still felt the same and I realise because of that, nothing can ever be diminished. Not from liking trance, not from splitting up, not from everything falling apart. not from public displays of love on the internet.

I was so lost, and it’s lucky I moved back to my hometown, because only there could I see truly how much. Any other place would have obscured it.

There is a rumour that Jesus only came back from the dead because he was twin flames with his mum, and when she saw him on the cross, after many lives together, she knew it was a lie. And that look was how he came back. It was her power not his.

There’s also a thousand stories of people who technically died, and where brought back, they said, by hearing the prayers of those who loved them.

What if life happens only in a second but it just seems like it takes ages to unravel?

You're the most magical person I know because you're so practical and you work with the world as it is. You're a master of material life. You love the world. I finally absorbed it all and now I’m like you. I want you to absorb me too. If I can stink of money you can be psychic, or remember that you are. See the full thing, you and me in all the episodes and places at once right now. And at some point in the future, which is now, you will remember, because you already do.

On the phone you told me you like my blog and read it every week. You was surprised at how well I am doing. I told you I wrote you a letter again and that I wanted to read it you but I haddent quite finished it. I said can I just post it on substack and you read it like that? And amazingly you said yeh. So I hope you like it. There is so much I'm supposed to be doing that i’m not, but i know the best thing to do in a time of war is write love letters, cause its the opposite. Trance and disco are still leaking into me more and more but I miss seeing you everyday.

So here are my top ten trance tracks for you:

Luvstruck - Southside spinners

Toca Me - Fragma

Coming on strong - signup, Scott Mac

Touch Me - Rui Da Silva

Silence - Delerium

Enore Une Fois - Sash!

Lizard - Mauro Pilottò

Three ’N One - Energy 52

Seven Days One Week - BBE

Ready for Flow - Nikolai

MORE LOVE LETTERS:

DEAR RUDE PERSON

CALL ME BY MY LANDLORD NAME (a story about asking someone to pee on you in John Lewis)

CLASS WAR (a love later for the underclass)