You know what my curse is guys?

My brain.

My brain giving me the best ideas I could ever write down.

What’s wrong with that you tell me?

Well, timing.

My brain feeds me that perfectly formed prose, those eloquent ideas and the words that could solve it all every day. Every night more so. At the exact moment when slumber takes over me and I’m ready to fall asleep.

It’s always been this way as far as I remember. I’ve always wrote shite as far as I remember.

 I see myself age 9 jumping out of bed and knocking everything on my way to my desk in the dark to scribble a few words on a piece of paper, which could probably have turned into grand poems if I hadn’t been, well, 9 and bruised in the process. 

I assume by now that if I had a neural link transcribing all the things that come to my mind at this particular hour, I could have written million of useless blogs like this one, a few good books and their sequels that have been living in my imagination forever, one well informed geeky encyclopedia and way too many realistic fan fictions you don’t need to know about – but definitely well worth adapting on Netflix. Hell. I probably solved a mystery of the universe or two even. 

Stupid brain and it’s stupid timing. 

I hear you. Why don’t I get up like the silly passionate child I once was? Well first, bed corners ouch. And second, I know myself well enough now to know that my inner darkness, the famous ‘Fuck everything and fuck everyone’, also known as anxiety, is just lurking in the corner waiting for me to skip my necessary 7 hour of sleep to strike hard. 

So no. I don’t get up anymore. If I am to keep the little bit of sanity I have left and keep on writing stupid shit you apparently appreciate for some unknown reason, I better not. 

So I stay in bed.

Raging against the actual writer in me that is always working the night shift like a cheap hooker. And I fall asleep. 

Obviously, the moment I wake up I try to salvage whatever vague memory I have left from it all, but it’s like a dream and retaining that flow with your bare hands at 6am never works. Definitely not before coffee. 

 

It’s not 6am. 

And I didn’t get up to write all this. 

So why am I all of a sudden rambling over nothing? 

Because my brain. 

Again. 

Choosing sometimes to spark the call of the pen at another moment. Always the most inconvenient of course, because where would be the fun in it if not. 

I had to repeat that first sentence in my head for a full 3 minutes brushing my teeth to remember it and not lose track of that stream of consciousness. 

Well guess what. 

I forgot. 

That’s why you’ve been reading all this shit for the past few minutes. 

It was much better I swear. 

 

Truth is, that stream has been constant for the past couple of weeks. And I’ve been trying my best to tame it, harness it, feed from it or feel from it depending on the hour of the day. 

Bits and bits and more bits of writing scattered on my phone and my drive. On napkins and torn papers. On my mind and my heart. 

So many words have come through since the creepy baby landed in Vegas. 

And so much more with everything that happened since. 

 

So much. 

And with it the main uncertainty. 

A guiding light named Larry. 

 

I wasn’t expecting the news of Larry sitting out the Vegas (Baby!) shows to hit me so hard. But look, the heart has its reasons I guess. 

Reasons or not, it was well broken.

And not for the fact he wasn’t going to be there.

But for the fact that he wasn’t going to be there. 

I’m not gonna make it to Vegas unless I win the lottery and I’m not even playing so why do I care? 

Well I care. Not about his presence or not. But about him. 

Like the good little empath I am, I was sad about what a shit decision it must have been to take.

For him. For them. For us. 

 

That moment when he realized he wouldn’t be able to go. 

That moment when he had to tell his brothers in music. 

That moment when he put his band first. 

That moment when they said no. 

That moment when they said yes. 

That moment when they said who else? 

That moment when it all dawned on them that it was the right call to make. 

 

Because yes. It’s a lot to digest. It’s a lot of heartache. But it was the right call to make. 

Shit happens. 

Life happens. 

And if there’s any indication that our favorite grumpy face is not done with U2 yet it’s this. 

Taking time off and sacrificing something that probably would have brought him great joy after all these years off stage is not the behavior of a man that is about to give up on what he loves best in this world – aka hitting things with his mates. 

We miss him. 

And we’ll miss him. 

But that’s not reason enough to forget about our love for him. And what do we want for people we love? For them to be okay. 

If we’re told that’s what it will take then so be it. 

Good vibes only and speedy recovery wishes to the man who started it all so he can return in good shape and kick all our collective arses for being whiney little fuckers. 

 

And remember that there are those three other fellas that are probably just as anxious as we are about the whole thing and need our support right now. 

Oh lordy. Here comes the empath again. 

What about Adam who’s lost his other musical half for now? Who will have to work on that insanely symbiotic rhythm section dynamic with someone else? And when in doubt, will turn around to a different face that had his back for the past 46 years? 

What about Bono that loves to go on and on about his love for the man? So much that he had to turn him into a chair in his Stories of Surrender to still have his presence on stage? A man who loves to go on and on and on and on… And there won’t be any snap on the snare drum to interrupt his rambling and finally start the song? 

What about Edge and… Well it’s Edge. He’ll figure it out – if he doesn’t combust from excitement first. 

 

What about that dude most of us never heard about before the big announcement who is gonna have to sit at Larry’s spot, carrying on his shoulder the pressure to not disappoint the biggest band in the world and the hordes of fans scanding ‘No Larry, No U2’ on social medias for the past few weeks? 

Bloody hell. 

I sure hope these guys get their 7 hours of sleep a night. 

 

Ha. 

Not telling you how to feel about all that. 

Just my thoughts, from my silly shit-timing brain. 

And maybe it’s all wrong. Maybe Larry is just not arsed to drag his shiny boots to the desert again. Who knows. 

 

 

Well the answer to this is : we don’t. 

We’re all entitled to our own feelings, our own reactions and our own opinions. 

But the truth is that we don’t know much. And if I can give you a little advice as a professional overthinker, stick to the facts. Always. Don’t go to the shiny spiralling light no matter how many cookies if offers you. It’s a trap. 

More seriously – it’s a lot to digest and a lot of dark energy to process. I get that. 

But remember that sadness and frustration never make a good mix though, and more often than not those words we use as weapons against people we actually do love so much usually turn into regrets.

I’ve been busting my arse for the past few years, hell a lot of years, to relay that message about the importance of that one smile in your day. Can you feel why now?

Shout if you need to, but for joy whenever you can.

We’re also entitled to shut the fuck up.

And I’m gonna choose the latter on the subject now. 

 

And focus on something else.

Something that matters.

To me.

If you need more of my opinions, it’s all over my twitter. Feel free to scroll back as far as you want. Haven’t made any dick jokes this year so far so you’re safe. 

 

And you know it’s time to go….

It’s time guys. 

TIME.

Or more so, no time not to be alive !

 

It’s time to enjoy. 

It’s a time to run in every direction as far as we can. 

It’s time to embrace the exuberance and just go for it. 

It’s time to finally seize the chance to explore our world, our lives, our limits and all that was so close to be cancelled forever in the past few years.

It’s time to be excited about what’s next and give the future a big kiss. 

A freaking BIG kiss. 

The kind of kiss that gets you naked undercovers in less time it takes to say Larry Mullen Jr. 

 

We’ve been surviving in the now, and we’re finally allowed to look onwards. 

So I say let’s fucking go.

Just fucking go for it. 

For it’s at long last time to live again. 

 

And I have great news for you people – our favorite band is back to lead the way and they clearly want us on that ride.  

Sending letters to the fans, abducting others with a giant big ball of wonders, collaborating with a diversity of talented people on their promo. 

Communicating, sharing, streaming, playing, posting, reinventing, tweeting! Freaking tweeting again! WE GOT TO SEE ADAM IN JEANS SHORTS GUYS – if that’s not a PR move, I don’t know what is.

They are the people we were waiting for. And they are finally here with the rebirth we all needed. A brand new baby, a brand new upgraded version of themselves in so many ways and a brand new rock album on the horizon. 

 

U2 are back. 

And they’re shouting in our ears with all they have : 

---

Ready for the push? 

---

I know my answer. 

Do you? 

• Larry Mullen Jr
• U2UV
• Vegas