Violet by Mike Dickson

The night wears on. The feelings become less inhibited. More intense. There is a striking honesty to it all now.

'It was always meant to be me', shouts one voice over the unbearable racket coming from the DJ's booth. 'He always said it was going to be me'. She stares into the bottom of her glass. 'And now it's not'.

I think I am meant to feel sorry for her. I am not sure why she is telling me these things when I am not really interested in her story, and nor do I know her very well. She's clearly unhappy and has had four hour's worth of alcohol, which is never a good mix as far as I have observed.

'Does he remember saying that to you?'. Maybe this will be conversation enough for her. Maybe she's not actually interested in active conversational discourse as much as she simply wants to vent.

It seems that I said the wrong thing. 'Of course he does. I was the special one for him. He told me himself. Many times. Lots of times. And now he's gone for her' She jerks her head in the direction of the girl behind her, dancing with a broad smile in the middle of a group of friends. She is wearing pale violet, which surprised me when I first saw it. It's not that I am conventional in the conventional sense, but that it's something that I wasn't expecting. It needs filed away under things that I need to anticipate like so many other things.

I don't understand the way relationships work. The music changes. Some dancers remain. Others sit down. Others get up. I'm not sure what the rules of this engagement are, exactly. They say that when a Queen leaves the hive she takes almost exactly half the occupants with her, but no one knows how any of the others know which half they belong to. It just works out, and to a great degree of accuracy. To us it's mysterious and unknowable, but then I see the dancers changing places like this and yet also see that there are still 23 people on the dance floor, so maybe we are more like social insects than we realise.

I understand enough that coming out with this story at this moment might not be the best idea. I wish I could be less obsessive sometimes. She doiesn;t look the type to give that any favour, but by now I hear her change the conversation anyway.

'Are you here with anyone?'

It takes me a while to come to terms with the idea that she doesn't mean anything about car-sharing. She might actually be interested in something else. This is interesting, maybe even worrying. This never happens to me.

'No, not really. I came on the train with D_____ and A_________ but that's all. Why do you ask?' I get a cold feeling. This is usually where I am asked to dance, or something. It's like a sort of ritual, I suppose. Like a complex series of movements carried out in the hive used to direct your colleagues.

Personally, I don't see the point in it whatsoever. I can tell just by looking at her why the now-married ex preferred the girl in pale violet to the one sitting next to me. One of them looks good and appears confident, the other is a maudlin assembly of regret and what looks like WKD, according to what I can make out from the stains on her blouse under the irritating orange lights.

She says something but I cannot make out what it is that she said, but her expression seems to imply that I am required to answer. There is not always a huge gulf between not hearing and not understanding, and one is often used to escape the other.

Before anything else is said, a hand lands on my shoulder. 'Is she bothering you?' says a cheery voice in pale violet. 'I didn't even know that you two knew each other.'

Maudlin gets up and leaves, heading over to the bar. 'It's OK', says Pale Violet. 'Our mum never understood her either. Now let me teach you how to dance.' Her words are a mixture of instinct, invitation and indictment. I have no way of refusing her. I am also aware that once again, Pale Violet has stolen from her something that Maudlin wanted. I wonder for how long this pattern has been going on.

Independent musician located in Scotland, producing cinematic/ambient/electronic works as and when he feels like it, for little to no fee.
Early works centred very much on the Mellotron but the palette is now much more varied.
Releases made periodically and usually frequently throughout the year. If you're listening to my stuff then I'd love to hear from you.

mikedickson.org.uk
music.apple.com
deezer.com
bsky.app
music.amazon.co.uk