westid

haven’t i been quiet when there’s this whole new year to be going on about. have i made any new year’s resolutions? am i keeping up with them? yeah i am… this carrier bag full of drugs i vowed to finish all in one blast is putting up one hell of a fight but i’m staying true to my word. suppose i will go round telling people “i’m doing junkie january” – technically dry january is still possible, and probably a lot less shit trying to get through than if you weren’t me

alright onion fuckers, peel away. actually i’ve had quite a bit on my mind notwithstanding my literary silence for the duration. how perfect is this, there was an honest to god actual real-life panic button and fuckin hell did i press it. however – before i ruined yet another perfect moment by being a prize prick, it was me. i mean the real me. hallelujah – the real me blesses you in the form of a real me song. enjoy:

i’m not gonna lie – i was scared. i am scared. alright then, you want me to be realistic about everything? then tell me what the big piss take will be this time. that’s being real. the reality what was waiting for me any other time i let myself think this is real, that’s for sure. no matter how cynical i have become, it’s the realest “ten minutes” that i have known in a very long time

no matter how real i might think things could be … sudden disappointment is still going to interrupt everyone, even if it is only unfortunate for them because i never had the chance to find out that i’d been fucked about yet again. ah well …

what the fuck am i saying? i don’t want to die. it’s just time for plan B. a brilliant plan, what can i say … i really thought of everything. all things considered though, it doesn’t actually solve anything. that’s alright … neither does anyone else

i think of your world all the time. proper parties with actual invitations, function room booked. corporate team building adventure weekend in some picturesque part of wales. complete cardboard cutout holiday snaps the same haircut that could be anybody’s, tan that’s as yellow as anybody’s, you call it love but really it’s just the middle class conveyor belt you’re on because that’s what you’re supposed to do and you’re right on track doing everything you should be doing at this point in your life. there’s definitely a mortgage involved but you have never been kept awake all night either worried about paying it or the other end of the spectrum where you wonder what the fucking point is in it all completely. i’m going to be realistic here … if you don’t have a german car that can go really fast but slam on the brakes automatically then what do you even bother getting up in the morning for? if you don’t have something hanging up on the wall in your house that says “live, laugh, love” you definitely know probably more than 1 people that do. if i ever managed to make it into your world again, i promised myself i would have one that said “live, laugh, leave”

everything is beige and neutral and nice and new and normal, because life is guaranteed, all is good, and everything is taken care of. in fact, the only thing you have left to do is deteriorate with old age –> say your farewell as you take your retirement –> have a fall one day that frightens your family because your fully grown child had to leave early from work “just to make sure” leading to a mutual decision “as a family” you should sell your house and downsize to some kind of assisted living apartment that’s small enough to represent the size your world has been anyway since leaving gainful employment. yep – the fucking insane mortgage you have been paying for most of your life … but didn’t mind because things like that don’t occur to the people who live in your world, has now left you encumbered with what you now regard this “big empty house” a five bedroom monument to the fact that being ugly and old is shit because there are no parties or guests and you don’t have sex anymore – now it’s all about being shriveled up never going anywhere and having the thermostat on 29 degrees even in summer when it’s boiling as fuck outside

i’m not slagging your world off or trying to say that it’s shitter than mine. actually i know so much about your world because once upon a time i lived there. i even had the relationship … where basically if i had kept my ideas to myself nothing would have happened at all and it would have lasted for the rest of my life

now i’m living in my world and i walk alone … but do i wish i had that sure-thing relationship with no sexual competition and guaranteed to continue indefinitely? i am surprised at myself that the answer is:- no thanks. that doesn’t mean i’m not good enough for your world … if i had to up my game and get back in the rat race, the opportunity to do that is sent my way on a regular basis – the same work, the same location, same commute … although in my case most of these arrangements involve basically staying home as much as i want … speaking of which same perks same company car – so why don’t i then, proper predictable procedurally minded person in positions such as yours literally wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from asking – and i’ll tell you why

you’ve got the full package. i don’t want to imagine but what i will guess is (a) looks good in holiday and party shots (b) probably vacant rather than thoughtful in either case easily managed. but in times like these, your world is no place for the single man. yeah the company he could end up working for probably offers a decent city centre situated gym membership, does a lot to deliberately engineer a positive office culture that believes the general good health and wellbeing of everyone on the team is the most important investment that a business can make blah blah blah

why do i daydream about your world then? i don’t really. i just wonder whether or not you think about mine while you’re squandering away another jolly in the lap of luxury … in a place where the people there get the privilege of being proper people who count because they showed up and introduced themselves in real life. even though a call in your own time would give anyone that same stature, they are instead only entitled to that if they in fact already are

if you think of that for just a moment, i’ll tell you what i would do if that whole thing happened again. first and foremost i would make someone incredibly fucking happy. then i would move straight onto making being in that world incredibly fucking fun … because there’s so much shit you can do that most people don’t because they can’t leave the office at work because they have to bring it home. they probably don’t even get offered a cheeky key at the christmas do. because i haven’t actually had the chance to go back to that world, i haven’t done any of the absolutely next level shit that i would do … it could be a total disaster granted, but then again it could be a blast

right i’ve done this thread enough now. the carrier bag continues. here’s a backward banger. bo selecta

food for thought between worlds: