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Monday, April 26, 2004
I need a drink because my head hurts and the screen I can't even see, but I won't get one because I'm woozy and swaying and about to fall off the chair and kooz...
Sometimes I want to get get get away. I wanna get some clip-pedals and cycle to John O' Groats and back. Camp by the side of the road.
But what I really want is someone to take me on the last train, for someone to wander with me around derelict tube stations and make out on the closed platform of Highbury and Islington. For them to take me to some dark tunnel where we can hide in each others' arms. I want to feel safe around dumb lary fucks who are out to ruin my life.
That is really, really what I would die for. The empty underground, scarily noiseless apart from the gigantic orgasmic phallic thrust of the tube carriage that brings news from yesterday and wear from years before that. The scribble of some clever, lovelorn teen ageless on the battered seat; home to a thousand romances and drunken split-lip kissing.
I want kids too, to be this brave and fearless person? Because I genuinely love childish play and fun and just... the need to move! The sudden, spontaneous desire to climb the beanstalk and never come down, despite what anyone asks for or says. The urge to escape in a realm inside my head, that I can never capture because of fucking... Something.
What do I wanna do in life? i have loves. I love animals. In a sort of dilettante fashion which should lead to no unscientific career. Observation of apes to find my future lost sense of joy? Perhaps that's where I will one day be.
Maybe psychology? Do I love people enough to make it clinical and therapeutic? Or am I the narcissist who wants a breakthrough?
Maybe advertising. Selling the dream of consumerism to the deluded masses. Can they find solace in their Guinness, their Nike, their Renault? Perhaps they can, but the job of the ad-man is to delude further and to never, ever leave someone satisfied.
Maybe writing? Criticising and separating the good from the bad, for ever and ever. Is this what I would want? To be a journalist? To write eternal about how much better things could be?
Or then a film-maker. Unfortunately culture has made this impossible, with the constant emphasis on the born genius. Which I painfully am not.
But the point is, that no matter what I do I want someone or more than someone to spend it with. I want a family.
And I think that one day, I might have one. If I am very, very lucky.
Sometimes I want to get get get away. I wanna get some clip-pedals and cycle to John O' Groats and back. Camp by the side of the road.
But what I really want is someone to take me on the last train, for someone to wander with me around derelict tube stations and make out on the closed platform of Highbury and Islington. For them to take me to some dark tunnel where we can hide in each others' arms. I want to feel safe around dumb lary fucks who are out to ruin my life.
That is really, really what I would die for. The empty underground, scarily noiseless apart from the gigantic orgasmic phallic thrust of the tube carriage that brings news from yesterday and wear from years before that. The scribble of some clever, lovelorn teen ageless on the battered seat; home to a thousand romances and drunken split-lip kissing.
I want kids too, to be this brave and fearless person? Because I genuinely love childish play and fun and just... the need to move! The sudden, spontaneous desire to climb the beanstalk and never come down, despite what anyone asks for or says. The urge to escape in a realm inside my head, that I can never capture because of fucking... Something.
What do I wanna do in life? i have loves. I love animals. In a sort of dilettante fashion which should lead to no unscientific career. Observation of apes to find my future lost sense of joy? Perhaps that's where I will one day be.
Maybe psychology? Do I love people enough to make it clinical and therapeutic? Or am I the narcissist who wants a breakthrough?
Maybe advertising. Selling the dream of consumerism to the deluded masses. Can they find solace in their Guinness, their Nike, their Renault? Perhaps they can, but the job of the ad-man is to delude further and to never, ever leave someone satisfied.
Maybe writing? Criticising and separating the good from the bad, for ever and ever. Is this what I would want? To be a journalist? To write eternal about how much better things could be?
Or then a film-maker. Unfortunately culture has made this impossible, with the constant emphasis on the born genius. Which I painfully am not.
But the point is, that no matter what I do I want someone or more than someone to spend it with. I want a family.
And I think that one day, I might have one. If I am very, very lucky.
