Escape from Samsara, @ The Fridge
Friday 12th January 2001
"Clubbing in the face of great adversity"
Opening the 2001 clubbing calendar with a trip to the Fridge, to once again attempt to Escape from Samsara (note to self: find out what Samsara is, and why it's so bad that we try to escape from it every week). An obvious choice but it seemed a good idea to start off on a sturdy, well beaten track. Well, 'the best laid plans of mice and men' and all that.
In a rather strange night packed beginning to end in drama in a rather half empty Fridge (people still recovering from New Year?), one thought remained constant in my head. A thought which developed until eventually I realised that I was in fact reciting a poem to myself. This is all a bit strange, but bear with me, because it is so apt to the night....
|
If you can keep your head when all about you |
|
Are loosing theirs and blaming it on you; |
| If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, |
| But make allowances for their doubting too: |
| If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, |
| Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, |
| Or being hated don't give way to hating, |
| And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; |
| If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; |
| If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim, |
| If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster |
| And treat those two imposters just the same: |
| If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken |
| Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, |
| Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, |
| And stoop and build'em up with worn out tools; |
| If you can make one heap of all your winnings |
| And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, |
| And lose, and start again at your beginnings, |
| And never breathe a word about your loss: |
| If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew |
| To serve your turn long after they are gone, |
| And so hold on when there is nothing in you |
| Except the Will which says to them "Hold On!" |
| If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, |
| Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch, |
| If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, |
| If all men count with you, but none too much: |
| If you can fill the unforgiving minute |
| With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, |
| Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, |
| And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son! |
"IF" by Rudyard Kipling, paving the way for bunchofcaners. I reckon he must have written this after a hard night in some Victorian opium den or something. Anyway, that's my review of the Fridge. A bit unorthodox but it was that kind of night.
drew.
| Home | Photos | Reviews & Stories | Random Articles | Links | Contact |