Your Creation • Zarry

79. Consumed

October 2018

I hadn't spoken to or seen Zayn in almost three months but I thought about him every day and I was relentlessly consumed. Everything was reminding me of him, no matter where I went or what I did. When I looked up at the sun I thought of Apollo, Icarus and Clytie and it all came back to Zayn and when I walked by the rose garden outside of Shangri-La, there was Zayn's ghost standing there, haunting me. A bee buzzing by? Zayn. The wind on a cloudy day? Zayn. Warming myself in front of the fire? Still Zayn. And when I got drunk off a bottle of Patron with Tyler Johnson and Kid Harpoon one night in the studio we listened to this Phyllis Dillon cover of "Something" by The Beatles and I got wasted and went on this whole spiritual journey about him and our connection.

And the worst part was that it wasn't even just Zayn that wouldn't leave my mind alone because I also found myself mourning the absence of Camille more than I thought I would in the process of it all. I realized after she left that I missed the smell of her hair and the way she snorted when she laughed. I missed her dancing around with no cares in the world, like every moment was her own personal Woodstock concert and I hated myself for not being able to fall in love with her and sometimes I even found myself getting angry and resenting Zayn for wrapping my heart in barbed wire and preventing me from being able to consume myself in anyone else because she could have been the one if I had been capable.

But since my mind was so cluttered between the two of them and as I thumbed through the pages in the chapter book of my life I realized I needed a release so I could make the kind of music I wanted to make. I wanted my sound to be creative. I wanted unique melodies and instruments. I wanted something old mixed with something new and I wanted it to sound as free as I wanted to feel, so I took a bunch of mushrooms and just tapped into all these craters in my brain I could never access and the results were just astronomically amazing so far.

I could feel myself slowly transforming mentally and spiritually and I was feeling a little better about this me time. Everyone was right. It really was exactly what I needed.

But then I was standing in the pink, retro-like kitchen at Shangri-La with my headphones on late one night in mid October, coming down from an earlier shroom trip and feeling a little giggly still. I was in good spirits just making a banana smoothie and bopping to Zayn's new single "Fingers" and even though we weren't speaking lately the narcissist in me just couldn't help but enjoy being his creative muse every single time.

Fucked and I want ya, I can't even text ya, cuz my fingers ain't working but my heart is, if you wanna let know where you are b, I can come and love ya.

B as in bee. Yeah, I saw what he did there. This song was so obviously about me, but I had no idea when he wrote it, I just knew that it made me laugh because the fans seemed to have caught on as well, but he clearly just didn't give a fuck with this one and it made me smile to myself. After about my third or fourth listen and gulping down the most delicious smoothie, I opened up my text messages and made an impulsive decision.

Me: Maybe your fingers aren't working but mine are. I'm in LA.
Zayn: Come over..

Wait, really? Zayn was hardly ever in Los Angeles. So I did what I had to do. I threw my phone down on the table and raced into the studio like a mad man where Jeff, his wife Glenne, Tyler and Kid Harpoon were hanging out. We had been in the middle of a session but it really had to wait.

"I'm running out for a bit I'll be back later," I said hurriedly.

"H it's like, midnight. Where are you going?" Jeff asked.

"Flying off to an island. I won't be gone long!" I exclaimed and ran back to the kitchen, grabbed my phone and keys and hopped into my canary yellow Ferrari.