stories from the city; damon albarn

49- Sing

Trainspotting.

Everyone had gathered for the giant group photo on the stairs. Ewan McGregor, Ewen Bremner, Danny Boyle and Damon Albarn standing in the front. Chloe Erlich peeking out from behind Ewan McGregor, tucked between the cast and crew of the movie.

Technically she shouldn't have been in the picture but nobody fucking cared. Most people on the set of Trainspotting hadn't had a problem with her and actually liked her being around.

And then, it was time for the screening of the film, something Chloe didn't think she had necessarily prepared for, especially as she sat down next to Ewan, hands clasped together- seated between Danny Boyle and Ewen Bremner.

Damon Albarn tucked behind them, curiously trying to watch the film, but his eyes were more or less on Chloe and Ewan.

The familiar notes to Iggy Pop's Lust For Life began to play, and the screen reeled in.

With Ewan as Mark Renton running down a street, next to Ewen Bremner as Spud. Wallets, papers, the contents of their pockets spewing onto the streets.

Mark looks determined and confident they'll get away. Spud looks terrified.

Chloe, turns to the real life Mark and squeezes his hand, excited to watch the work unfold in front of her.

"Choose Life. Choose a job."

Damon sees the exchange in front of him, but his ears are tuned to the events happening on the screen. He had chosen life, right? He was still here. He didn't want to kill himself, that he knew- and he had a job. He was a fucking pop star. A critically acclaimed one.

"Choose a career. Choose a family."

He had a career, he was the frontman for Blur. He was a writer. A pretty boy. The pretty boy. He sang. He danced. He posed. Whatever. And he had a mother and a father. And an excruciatingly painful girlfriend.

"Choose a fucking big television."

He began to wonder if he'd just have to listen to Ewan McGregor, sorry, Renton, monologue for basically two hours. He didn't know if he could stomach that.

Maybe he'd just unwind and listen to the music instead. He loved Iggy Pop, he could kick back and listen to the song. Right. Although it would be hard considering fucking Ewan McGregor's face would be all over the damn screen.

And he was in front of him.

Fuck.

He was in for a long night.

Maybe he should throw up, forcibly vomit, maybe he could even aim for Ewan. That would be progressive.

Going back to his original thoughts, focusing on the song, he began to wonder, Lust for Life? Who's my lust for life?

He hoped it wasn't fucking Justine. She was hot. The exact type of girl he liked. She was gorgeous, beyond satisfying and he liked the way she made him feel when they were high. But other than that, recently she'd been terribly mean. He couldn't say that he didn't do the same thing. But she was just unbearable.

Did he even lust after Justine? Could he even call it that? Could he? I mean she was just someone he loved to fuck. And used to love. Did he even love her? What was love? What was the line between lust and love?

Was Chloe his lust? He certainly pined after her all the time. He got angry thinking about her and Ewan. He was confused as to why she'd ever have a baby with him.

Fuck. The song had changed.

The tone was completely different now. In fact, looking up at the screen, he was completely lost. He didn't know what was going on.