From Albion to Shangri-La by Peter Doherty

Author:Peter Doherty
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: rehab, amy winehouse, libertines, pete doherty, addicted rock star, babyshambles, carl barat, peaches geldof, pete doherty girlfriend, peter doherty
Publisher: Thin Man Press

Squelchy sickly mucous cocaine in my mush. I'm sure the co-pilot saw me messing about with a $100 note in my nostril.

Have been trying to work a few new tunes into the set – is going rather awkward and slow the tunes are, just not thoroughly worked through.

Feel pressure.

Must try harder.

A spectrum forms on the aero's plastic windows and through the band of various filters a silver blue glitter that reflects off the wing. In a gap in the layer of clouds you can see the scale-like surface of the sea. The clouds' shadow is darkly outlined on the water.

***

1/9/12

Chateau La Fortine, Saint Emilion

Brassy, tarty, not altogether breakfasty

I mouth the shape of smoke-rings thick and cokey. Blood blots all over the fluffy white towelling of the bath robe. My chest heaves and hacks up slumps of snotty black lung soil. My nostrils leak dangly strands of liquid, speckled with tiny crumbs of chemical candy – remains of the many lines hoover'd up the ol' hooter this night pass'd. My left hand creaks in agony, craters carved into the skin with flesh-melting mounds of pain. A web of stringy lines of blood patterns the back of my hand. They sprout out from the wrist…

I remember the old man coming home from night duty in the guard house, lunchtime, 11'oclock. Heavy black boots and full soldiers get-up he fell himself on the green settee and closed his eyes and cocked a leg and let out a ripper and then in a slubber jabber slapper and looked at me and exclaimed 'Rats'!

'No that was you!' says I, and I run to him and dive on him and lay atop of him and the music to Grandstand fires out of the tele, you know the one?

***

There's a canvas propped up at the end of the bed. Naomi in a flimsy dress – natural girl look. She's beautiful. Clara's at the foot of the bed, perched with masses of blonde hair. She knows people in Essex who wear 3 pairs of false lashes at a time!

***

I must describe the technicolour vision of that sweet, sharp-toothed sort, how she is to pounce upon me and never let her claws go of me until she has temporarily exhausted her lusts. Describe the heavenly melodie that I play and sing as she pulls a grenade out of my cock with her teeth. The pair of us in ecstasies and narcotic bliss…

***

Céline and Octavie are in their pajamas, ready for an early night. Drew has hit the sack early too.

Yesterday's recording: 11 - aye, eleven - new demo's for EMI's attraction.

Stephen Street is on board me thinks for 2 weeks in March for the recording of the new Shambles album. For an autumn release perhaps.

For the first time there will be a number of Doherty/McConnell collaborations on the record.

***

I awoke just after midnight, in my own bed, in my rue de Copenhague chambres d'Albion. Wander in a daze into the kitchen.

Is it not impossibly wrong that I scratch and

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