Greg Purcell's Memoirs

Part Of You is Half Of Me

There is a wetness on the city today. A deluge, a dank, a sickly swell. The thirst erupts from me and I emerge from the home. Eyes fluttering from the barrage. Turn your face downward child, the Godhead is spitting on you. Turn the corner and approach the corner shop. Halogen basks the aisle. The pale Irish pallour of the dairy section. Make decisions, selections. Exchange and return to the fliuch. Why spit benevolent one? Deem us less than life. Are we a smattering of chance? Can you hear me? Remember the old times? I, your creation. Remember when I was oh so good and pious? All the grand guilt we submerged ourselves in. Kneeling until our knees kneeled too. Gazing on the dust that traversed the floor, your creation, not these human ones above us. The impurity of them. Man’s evil marble and colour and art. Head down son, take pleasure in the youthful limping. Twenty five good years, now for the penance of ageless rain... Drag your feet and crumble. Meat cleaving to bones blissfully unaware. Gaunt and garotted, glib towards the grave. Scream to the heavens “Why Lord why?!?” So junkie mouthed and disrepair. The wetness. The despair and destruct and 
and 
and 
and....... 
Today is today.
The end of memory.
I only popped out to get some fucking milk.

Half Of Me play The Twisted Pepper Saturday 22nd of November.

Prologue 

I was charged with a task. The task involved developing a backstory for our band name ‘Half Of Me’. Daunting, undaunted I endeavoured to fashion….no, to create….to exist a fictional, highly engaging tale of origin for the moniker.
    
“Humour!” I exclaimed! This is the path to go by, as references to Eddie Murphy’s ‘Raw’ flew through my head. Thusly, I sat alone and proceeded to allow pen to greet paper. No, that won’t do….

I was preparing to discuss the similarity between this name and some of the more emotive bands that we come across today. A joke was prepared that although we were intending to be one of the these bands at inception, our lack of suitable haircut and geographical location made this impossible. Twice rebuffed….I entrenched the self deeper, but found no solace or genuine inspiration, from without or within...

Perturbed, disturbed and distressed by the lack of origin for our collective Nom De Plume I began to tire. My previously enraged synapses raged on. As time shuddered forward I floated and drifted, slumbered and sprang, all the while the treacherous and fanciful pen made its surreptitious escape to the relative calm of the floor, away from the painful and and violent scratching of the page. Both pen and page too were relieved.


When I awoke I was in the presence of another, jovial, eager to work and holding a triumphant and thoroughly satiated sharpened instrument in the sky. As he looked down on me, and I looked further down on me, I noticed that I was no longer in one, but in two. Twiced. I was no longer the one, but two of the same one. In a word, the fucker had cut me in two. 

“Now”, spoke the other “Now, let’s have a look at you, your 3/6ths, your 5/10ths, your .5s”. 
I complied and stood facing my selves, closing one eye to observe the other and vice versa.
I spied my fears and passions, loves and losses, thoughts and memories. A plethora of shapes determined by my past and present, of effect and affect. Dreams and realities, whether perceived or not perceived, it all lay waiting for me to discover at some point where it would reveal itself as if it had lain in slumber awaiting the opportune moment. Innate knowledge and learned motions, all contained within. I could even make minor changes, I could tweak here and there, prioritise and generalise, I could not however, discard.

After a fashion I asked the body if it would be permissible to recreate the whole. It responded that I would have to do it myself, through reflection and self examination, and that the only way to reattach these languid bisectionals would be to regularly disengage them from one another and inspect them. “When the past and present serve to create a future, that is when the halves meet”. 

I’m still trying to put the two sides back together, I’m making progress though. Half Of Me at a time.


- Half of Me is band name based on reflection and dissection. In the best possible way. -