A New Dawn Fades into 2023

As 2022 slips into 2023 a new dawn fades, bringing with it that sense of expectation to make one’s life better than it was the previous year. Fresh start and all that malarkey.

It actually had the opposite effect and got me feeling quite nostalgic and, if truth be known, a little melancholy. I was playing a few old tunes on Youtube when a memory washed over me.

It was about when I was selling books in Italy in the 1980s and I ended up jamming Joy Division with a band.

Below is a little anecdote about it if you’re interested.

As 2022 slips into 2023 a New Dawn Fades.

1985. It was a freezing cold February afternoon in the Italian port of Livorno. I was about 21 years old. My overcoat collar pulled up against a flurry of snow, my winkle pickers squelching slush from the holes in the ends of them. I was wandering the docks trying to hawk books door-to-door. I hated the job but I didn’t have enough money for a flight home. I could see an enormous Italian naval frigate in the distance behind a chain link security fence. I headed towards it to get a closer look.

As I was walking past warehouses with my head down, shoulders hunched, I heard the faint hum of a band jamming. I looked up and saw an orange glow from a first floor broken window. I pushed at a paint-peeled door and walked up a flight of rickety wooden stairs, the music getting louder. At the top, the room opened up and, at the far side, a three-piece band was practising. They were playing Disorder, by Joy Division – one of my favourite bands. I watched them for a while from the shadows. Snow melting from my black hair, dripping onto the floorboards.

When they’d finished, the guitarist & vocalist spotted me and said something in Italian which I didn’t understand. (I’d been in the country a short while and had only learnt my sales pitch phonetically.) He spoke again and, this time, offered up his guitar in his palms for me to play. I shook my head then tentatively pointed at the bass. The bassist un-slung his guitar and gestured for me to join them. 

I swallowed hard. I wasn’t a very good guitar player. My fingers trembled as I took the bass from him and slid the strap over my shoulder. The three of them looked at me expectantly. The vocalist nodded encouragingly.

I began playing the bass riff of New Dawn Fades by Joy Division. It was one of the few songs I knew how to play and was confident about. It was also one of my favourites. After a few bars, the guitarist and drummer joined in. They knew what they were doing.

It felt exhilarating. We must have played that song for about 10 minutes straight. When we eventually stopped, I handed the bass gratefully back to its owner. He bowed his head in thanks.

The four of us just stood there looking at each other, smiling. Not talking. We had no need for language. Music had said what we could not.

Eventually, I left without saying a word and stepped out into the snowy night.

I sometimes think back to that experience and wonder what happened to those three guys. Did they make it in music? What are they doing now? Are they still alive? Still friends? Do they ever meet up and say – 

Hey, remember that guy who crashed our practice down by the docks? 

That was really surreal. 

Couldn’t speak a word of Italian.

Yeah, didn’t we play Disorder or something?

Nah, it was New Dawn Fades.

Oh, yeah, I remember.

Wonder what he’s up to now?

Probably dead.

Yeah, probably. He was heading towards the naval base.

.

(The story of my subsequent detention by Italian naval security guards is for another time.)

Antio sas, 2022.

That’s Greek for goodbye, if you didn’t know.

At least, that’s what Google translate tells me. It could say ‘f*ck you’ for all I know. Which would work just as well.

Saying farewell to the year in a foreign tongue has become a bit of a custom for reasons I shan’t go into right now.

Greek mythology and the divine muses have been pretty prominent for me in 2022, so it seems quite appropriate.

This year, I’ve managed to paint lots of pictures, visit lots of the Peak District and write lots of poetry. So much so, I’m hoping to publish my second collection of poetry, “Go tell the bees” some time in 2023. (I’ve even been dabbling with a book cover design for it.)

To see out the year, I thought I’d leave you with a few samples of abstract doodling which I’ve been doing quite a bit of lately. It’s a very cathartic and mindful exercise if you want to give it a go. I’ve even tried it with patients on the ward and it went down really well. (Remember, it’s about the process of doing art rather than the end result.)

It just remains for me to say, thank you for visiting my blog, your support is very much appreciated. I hope you have a very happy, healthy, peaceful and prosperous 2023.

Keep being creative and tell those closest to you that you love them.

In the words of the great poet, Philip Larkin:

“…we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind   

While there is still time.”

Now, I am not.

As 2011 draws its last desperate gasps before it expires to its final resting place in the annals of Gregorian time, I thought it only proper to end the year with a poem.

It’s based on the idea that energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed.

It’s one I’ve been working on for a while now and I’m not sure it will ever be finished as new ideas rear their precocious heads just as I’m about to type my final point.

So, publish and be damned! is what I say. (Or was that someone else?)

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I hope you have a fantastic end to 2011 and a preposterously prosperous and productive 2012.

Happy New Year!

Now, I am not.

By David Milligan-Croft

I am an electron.

I am an atom.

Now, I am not an atom.

I am a star.

I am a white dwarf.

Now, I am molten lava,
Coursing through the juvenile earth.

Now, I am not.

I am a rock.
Marble, to be specific.
From the cliffs of Massa and Carrara.

Now, I am not a rock.

I am primordial gloop.
Now, I am not.

I am an amoeba.
Now, I am two amoeba.

I am sky.

I am cobalt-blue sky.
I am cloud – I am rain – I am river.
I am
w
a
t
e
r
f
a
l
l, I am ocean.

I am vapour.

I am a droplet of dew on a monkey puzzle tree.
Now, I am not a droplet of dew on a monkey puzzle tree.

I am a tiger.

I – am – a – tiger.

Waiting.

Watching.

Padding.

Creeping, slowly through the long grass.

I see you with your spear.

I. Am. Tiger.

Now, I am not.

I am a slave.
Skin flaking from my red-raw back
Like cherry blossom petals.

Now, I am free.

I think I am a Greek.
Therefore, I am not a Greek.

I am a hoplite.
My dory has shivered,
My hoplon is buckling.
Now, I am not.

I am a foetus.
I hear my mother’s muffled weeping
From somewhere close by.
Now, I am not.

I am the darkness
That envelops you.

I am a judas.
All that have gone before
And all that will come.

Now, I am a magician.
Now, I am not.
Ta-daaaah!

I’m a daddy!
I cradle your life in my trembling palms.

One day, I will be your father no more,

But, for now,

I am.