… are very good indeed. At least, so the song says. Having overindulged in all of them, i can vouch for that. Though over-indulgence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Hedonism is a nice place to visit (not for me, i’m not big on public displays of nudity or swingers’ resorts, but others enjoy it very much).
When it comes down to it, it’s in Jamaica, and that’s just not convenient for the modern dictator monarch intrepid novelist on the go. Not as an Antichrist headquarters. Though it’s tempting just to try the grass. i used to smoke with Jamaicans in London, we like similar states of zoom.
Are you one of those people, who when asked, so what do you do for a living, have a one or two word answer that’s completely true and not contentious?
I envy people like that. I mean those who are a thing. Like accountant, doctor, [insert vocation here]. Because being a writer is like when you say you’re ‘an artist’.
Once people find out you make plasticine toys then show them to your friends on Twitter, they tend to think ‘artist‘ eh? Well, we don’t know about art, or claymation, but we know what we like, and plasticine models of animals won’t get you anywhere.
For those new to the strange labyrinth we call my mind, this post is probably brought to you by the voices-outside-my-head (basic rule of thumb, those we listen to, because they never tell us to hurt anyone… the voices-inside-my-head can be ignored with impunity) who think it’s funny when i tell people that I’m the Antichrist.
I’m not really the Antichrist, but then (as we’ve discussed) the Antichrist would say that. It’s like “when did you stop beating your wife?” I find the career question hard to answer without someone saying “She’s a witch, she’s a witch! Burn her!”
So, i’m sort-of a writer, of the new-and-improved giant space opera-fantasy epic of Doom! And currently trapped inside a mould-ridden house (also of Doom), but soon now, i will find a way out. This ‘way‘ so far involves saving madly and thus far, acquiring some boxes. They’re very nice boxes.
Sturdy, and made of cardboard. A plentiful number. We also have tape, packing paper, and one box assembled, so just as soon as someone gets the urge, we can start packing.
We can’t afford to move any of it for maybe a month, (at least) so there’s not a lot of time-pressure. Time is meaningless – lunchtime doubly so. Was that a Douglas Adams quote? It sounds as if it should be.
Aha – he said it’s an illusion. Nope. Well, yes. And it’s meaningless. And fleeting. Time is also like a piece of string. No, seriously. Pay attention – i will be asking questions later. See, anywhen is actually right here, right now. Well, maybe just a step to the right. Cool huh?
I’m probably not going to ask questions, because i’d have to provide links, explain then discuss string theory, posit parallel universes, and read more than i really wanted to when starting this.
It was supposed to be an airy rambling about life. I’ve already had to find links to Hedonism II, Wallace & Gromit, and now Douglas Adams has started posthumously grandstanding in it.
He wrote one of the funniest books ever Life, The Universe, & Everything – which is a fab book, if you haven’t read it. It was made into two movies, neither of which are actually as good as the book. It’s the kind you can’t read on the train, because you laugh out loud too much. “42!”
Here’s something scary for those who remember reading it close to its publication date. It was published 31 years ago. Feck. Age is so huge. Sort of like space. Either it’s not enough or it’s too much, for most of us.
I cope like everyone else, i’m about thirty inside my head (i was much more sensible by the time i hit thirty), and on the outside, i’m 48. I look in the mirror and wonder who the baggy bint with the silver streaks in her hair is.
I suppose i’m your average Supreme Being. Yeah, delusional is exactly what i was going to say. On your knees, children of the blog… yes, of course you can have cushions. Ahem, you at the back, i wasn’t serious. For heaven’s sake, use a comfy chair.
We’ve discussed this before – worship of me involves reading the blog (laughing, thinking, and even commenting, when i let you get a word in), and adding me on Twitter.
The whole thing, about overindulging a bit, partying hard, (no, i have no idea where i’m going with this, i presume there’ s a point somewhere, or even somewhen), is that you get a bit older, and it’s cool.
I have experience. I have done things. At least, other people are impressed, which is funny, because at the time, it was just life. I thought everyone was doing it. Imagine my surprise when i discovered there were heaps of people who’ve never even tried a Flaming Sambucca. Back in the early 80’s, this was, before they started putting them out before you drank them. I did fine. Nobody was more astonished than me when i didn’t set fire to myself.
I saw someone use Bundaberg Rum to create a Flaming Bundy. I think maybe rum’s more flammable? Especially if you pour it over yourself when you toss the drink back, because you’re drunk . Whoof! It was very spectacular to watch.
He was fine, the alcohol burned off fast, and his facial hair was so greasy it didn’t catch, but i took it as a signal that the night was over. It was 2am, my mate had stopped fancying him, and we’d only followed him to his London bedsit because he said he had booze. I was ready to go home when i discovered it was Bundy.
Among things you really need to do before you leave your 30’s – like read the Tree Lobsters Webcomic – I was astonished to find women who never even had an orgasm until they were over 40. How can you go through life without exploring a bit? Gawd.
Over 40, you’re going to hurt yourself trying to do all that teen stuff. Only teens can do it, you know, that burning the candle at both ends, without payback of massive proportions. And they get payback, they just don’t let it stop them.
I forget, some people are still thinking that down there is some freaky place you mustn’t touch, or like nitroglycerine, it might go off. “OMG, look out, she’s gonna blow! Everyone, run!” *sounds of screams and running feet*
Sadly, people being stupid isn’t enough reason to kill them. It’s a good reason to encourage them to neuter themselves accidentally with a sandwich maker. Death or sudden emasculation. You have to make it look like an accident.
Like when you’re parking the tank, and oops, you dropped a track on the neighbours. And maybe their kids. “I’m sorry, officer, i didn’t see them there.” He’ll say, “Queen of Darkness, eh? What’s with the tank?” Men are complete suckers for tanks. Maybe i’ll let him take it for a spin.
I won’t say “OMG, it’s the filth!” Or anything referring to da Babylon. I’ll impress him with my knowledge of weapons of war (total dilettante, but glib, that’s me – and i have a nice smile). I’ll tell him that the tank is to invade Queensland.
And he’ll say, “Flatten a cane toad for me”, or something equally derogatory about Queenslanders. I’ll be cool, because there’s all this stupid interstate rivalry going on with these little postage stamp places over here on the east coast, but i’m not from these parts.
Western Australia is a over a million square miles (2,532,400 km2) – eat that, piddly lil eastern states places. (Texas would fit 5+ times in WA.) Besides, i’m following the actual New South Wales police on Twitter, so safe from arrest. They don’t want to offend me, because i might unfollow them on Twitter.
Yes, cunning of me. And the next time they announce they’re seeking a mysterious Queen of Darkness who’s allegedly been playing war games with a tank at the Budgewoi shops, and ran over some women and children on a crosswalk, where they really shouldn’t have been, i’ll have advance warning.
If i’m home by then, and can see what’s happening on Twitter, of course, as i don’t have a mobile tweeting ability. The worst part about Twitter? I find myself wanting to tweet things when i’m out. *sighs*
I even think, wow, maybe if all those Mac users are having so much fun, i’ll have to get one. I will tweet from cafes like everyone else does. And i will take photos of my food, even if it looks like dog turds on a plate. (Most food doesn’t, most food is jealousy-provoking good stuff.)
Then i remember i don’t like Macs, so screw that. Oops – i nearly joined a cult there. See how easy it is? Beware of religion, and pass the bong.
I have PMS, a cold, and a massive allergic reaction. I feel like crap.
But the drugs are working quite well.