I have decided to keep a journal of my staycation.
Monday: Woke up at 0630 in obedience to hard-won habits of healthy early rising. Did not hate everything. Considered getting up so as not to begin next week with appalling jetlag. Pondered this for a solid hour then slept another two.
Went to the bank with Alan. Admired pie in a window. Bought a book, and some things. Learnt more about current trends in men’s shoe fashion than is good for anybody to know. Ate noodles. Had many conversations about income disparity and late stage capitalism and how much I like holidays.
Went drinking with full intent to be civilised. Got home at 0530 with an interesting collection of inexplicable bruises and a new appreciation for monkeys.
Tuesday: Did not get out of bed. Swore to be a better person forever.
I wrote this last night (except the last sentence) because it was that or sit inside my brain.
It’s suicide awareness week or some shit this week. Twitter and Tumblr and Facebook are wall-to-wall with touching personal stories and admirable sentiments. Everyone’s talking about how 01) if you are unhappy and need help you should reach out 02) if you know anybody who is in pain or who you suspect to be in pain you should be there for them and 03) everything will get better no it really will it we promise you just have to be strong and believe in fairies and magic and flowers and twoo wuv.
I hate you all.
Nicole: I know what it is. She's pregnant.
Me: You reckon?
Nicole: It's always this time of day. It's morning sickness.
Me: She's not showing any signs - but it happens early on, right?
Nicole: Yes, and think back - about two, three months ago they kept having domestics.
Me: You're right - and then they shagged like monkeys. Over, and over again.
Nicole: They made up, they made love, they said, "let's make a baby".
Me: They absolutely did it hard enough to break like six frangers. The ceiling was shaking.
Nicole: What's a franger?
Me: A condom, darling.
Nicole: Oh! Of course. How's that for investigative ability.
Me: Let's open an agency.
In which I discuss the manifestation of my peculiar madnesses for the gratification of none but myself, because I’m a self indulgent emo twat and I don’t actually care if you think that.
Today on Twitter I confessed my undying love to the Internet and it turns out it loves me back. <3
Another amazing album name. Bam. I’m on fire.
I’m watching the Rage jubilee special and it’s made me acknowledge and regret - again - my isolation. Because look, they just played Britney Spears and now Spice Girls and I have nobody to turn to with an emotion communicated purely by facial expression and have them say “I KNOW RIGHT”.
I am afraid that you are not as clever as you think you are, and indeed, as I once thought you were.
Several years ago I know I was backwards and stupid. I didn’t understand how to approach anything with a rational mind, to assess and critique it. I swallowed bias, dogma and opinion as fact.
At that time, the people around me seemed so different. They had strong opinions on subjects I didn’t even know how to research. They seemed so moral and worthy. I felt like a stupid little kid.
Now I’ve grown up a bit and I see that these people weren’t, as I thought, politically, culturally and critically aware; they didn’t explore and interrogate the world around them.
They had simply swallowed an alternative line of bullshit, one which is considered more socially acceptable among the intelligentsia and the liberal, but which is equally exclusive, cruel and capable of harm.
Not everything you say is wrong, but sometimes, you misunderstand so badly, or dismiss without engagement, and in doing so you reveal yourself to be as blind and gawping as those you strive so hard to distance yourself from.
So much hate, and much of it comes from you. So much ignorance, and much of it comes from you. So much negativity and useless words.
Every day I pull slightly further back from the world, because I would rather sit here alone and think things through quietly than listen to your pulpit thumping, which drowns out the voices of reason and compassion.
I’m currently at step three, and it’s mid-autumn. Help me.
- Hoodie Level One
- Hoodie Level Two
- Hoodie Level Three
- Close windows
- Double Blanket
- Triple Blanket
- Hoodie Level One and Three in conjunction
- Hoodie Level One and Three in conjunction with Triple Blanket
- Hot water bottle
- Give up and die
Brennamas is an ancient pagan festival which has been reclaimed and commercially updated to suit modern tastes. The festival has its roots in the lunar calendar, and originally marked the first half-moon of the new year; for convenience’s sake, modern adherents have fixed the festival’s mid-point on January 14.
Brennamas - the multi-day festival which coincidentally falls over my birthday - was pretty epic this year. Several pious souls shared with me their ritual scribblings, performed in honour of the festival spirit. Check ‘em out through the break.
Here are some things.
You have adopted a dogmatic approach which deals only in extremes. You have closed yourself off to debate and discussion. You have lost the ability to be self critical, self aware, and open minded. You have become the very thing you hate - the espousal of an opinion which doesn’t need to be rationally justified because you are certain it is correct. You are on a crusade, now. You will lash out with violence at any target. I won’t rally behind your banner.
I used to go outside a lot, and now I’m a shut in. Yesterday I went walking with three other adults, two kids, and even a baby. Nobody was wearing sunscreen but me. Nobody was burnt but me.
My skin is so pale its shade would probably be labelled “transparent” in a furniture catalogue. The burns aren’t actually that bad - no blisters, and only minor discomfort under clothes and hot water - but I am so colourless that the red is as lurid as if I had been touched with hot coals. I keep expecting the skin to smoulder, split, and scar.
After a few minutes thought last night I realised I have actually been more or less continuously indoors for four years.
Me (grumbling at something): Balls.
Me: Hairy balls.
Nicole: So many balls.
Me: All the balls. All the balls in the world.
Nicole: Aw gross, why would you even mention that?