They're Lighting Up The Sky Tonight
There aren’t so many nights you can watch a clear starry sky over good old Londontown – there is just too much light in this city, and too much pollution. Jason knows this oh-so-well, for he spent enough nights out on his roof garden staring into the universe, exhausted, but still sleepless. Every now and again, though, he gets rewarded with the sprinkle of a thousand glitzy stars above him – some bigger, some smaller, some are bright and others dim, all of them burnt out millions of years ago, but still vividly shining on dark nights. Tonight is one of these nights and he feels tremendously grateful for them fighting the smog, shining their little lights on him, making him feel less alone, less shattered, less crushed.
He has only just returned home from what was supposed to be the biggest and best and most emotional performance since they reunited: the first time they’d perform “Never Forget” as a five piece. He had been looking forward to this since…he can’t even remember just how long. It was supposed to be awesome, breathtaking, heartstopping. And it was. Howard was brilliant, Gaz was awesome, Mark shone, and Robbie had a ball. It was just him who screwed up. Massively. He’s got not more than two lines in this song, and still managed to screw up. So far off key that he was nearly in key again. Two fucking lines! Seriously, how difficult can it be to NOT screw up two fucking lines?? - The lads were far too nice to mention it, and he knows it’s one of these rare things none of them will ever joke about... and still there is no escaping it. Darn youtube! It’ll be all over the internet in no time…
Briefly he wonders if Rob will read the comments to this video as well. The “Jason Orange screws up X-Factor-performance”-video. The one that, once you’ve watched it, recommends the videos “Jason Orange daft dance move” (7.895 hits since November 2007) and “Jason Orange drops his trousers in Manchester” (25.678 hits since July 2009). Oh, bloody hell…
He’s so busy with frowning, internally cursing and deepening the wrinkles on his forehead, that the sudden buzz of his mobile somewhere in the depths of his pockets, makes him jump slightly. Who'd send him a message at this ungodly hour?? He checks, only to notice the sender is Rob. Robbie? Now?
Remember what
The Captain says:
never read the
comments on
youtube. Just
don’t! It doesn’t
matter! ;D R.xx
There’s a cold breeze blowing over the roof and it ruffles his hair and makes him shudder. With it comes a memory, a little piece of conversation from earlier this month. A question he asked, for reasons unbeknown to him, and of which he didn’t really expect to get a proper answer to.
“Rob, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Jay, what’s up?”
“Do you really read comments on youtube?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Why? You mean why do I read comments on youtube about you?”
“Mmmhhh…?”
“I’m interested what people think about you.”
“What?? Why?”
“Because…I don’t get you…not completely, y’know? Dunno, but there’s a part of you I just don’t…get. But I’d like to. And sometimes hearing what other people think helps. Sometimes not.”“And did reading those comments help you any?”
“Nope. They don’t get you either.”
“Not?”
“No. Either they admire you so much, they can’t write logical comments, or they get you completely wrong.”
“What d’you mean ‘completely wrong’?”
“Like...mmmh, they think you’re a miserable git. Or a moody cunt.”
“Oh...but that’s not ‘completely wrong’.”
“Yes, it is! We’re all miserable gits and moody cunts at times. You don’t have the monopoly on this, y’know? You’re not more or less moody than anyone else in this band. And you’re hardly ever miserable. You’re just….mmmhh…”
“Difficult?”
“…’complicated’ was more the word I was looking for. But that’s nothing bad, is it? You’re 3D, that’s all. I’m still looking for those glasses, y’know?”
“Mmmhhh…”
“You know, Jay, thing is, it’s not so much about what they write…it’s that they write. It’s the fact that there are so many people out there who care. They may think you’re a moody cunt or a useless prick – that’s what most people call me, y’know? – but still they care enough about you to write a comment. People from everywhere on the planet, all ages, all sexes. They may say they hate you, or that you’re a waste of space, but they go to this place, watch a video, read the other comments, log in, write a comment. Lot of effort, innit? And these are only the ones who claim they don’t like you! Now, you go figure – you’re the clever one in the band!”
The mobile weighs strangely heavy in his hand and still he can’t stop staring at the little text on the display. It’s true. There are people out there who hate him. Who despise him. Who say they can’t stand him. Who are envious, obviously, aren't they? Because why tell the world you really don’t like someone if you can’t be bothered? They’ll have a ball tonight, warming their fingers right now, getting ready to spread their spite and malignity. But they don’t matter. What matters is, there are people out there who care for him. People who saw him tonight screwing up big time, and still love him. He doesn’t have to understand why, they just do. And they’re thinking of him right now, some far, some near, all of them hoping he’s doing all right, hoping he’ll get some sleep anyway. Some of them will write nice comments on youtube. And some of them text him in the middle of the night when they really should be fast asleep instead.
He figures (‘cause after all he’s the clever one in the band, isn’t he?) they’re like the stars up above him: they can’t always be seen, but they’re always there. And they are beautiful.
