N-FaT

Don’t look at me for wisdom

Don’t look at me for advice

It’s more through luck than by design

I’ve managed to survive.

There’s not much I can pass on

But if you do insist

There’s one small thing that I’ve found wrong

And I’ll give you the gist:

 

Never fuck a Tory;

They might appear nice

So if you do by accident

Just please don’t do it twice.

 

The Tories walk amongst us

They’re hiding in plain sight,

They’ll celebrate with birthday cake

Then take everyone’s slice.

 

They’ll fuck you til you’re sound asleep

And say their love is true

Then auction off your cock and balls

And sell them back to you

 

I got drunk once and kissed a girl -

She seemed a normal lass -

I woke up with no clothes on

Cause she’d privatised my ass.

 

You just can’t trust a Tory,

They’re born to tell you lies

They’ll take away your breaktime milk

And chuckle whilst you cry.

 

(The problem is, they look like us,

They take the tube, they get the bus,

They chomp their crisps, they watch the game:

The issue is they look the same)

 

And

 

Some of them are pretty cute

Some are beautiful,

Or handsome in a sharp-ass suit,

But comrades, don’t be fooled.

 

Their hands caress away a tear

And comfort bawling kids.

Those same soft hands will draw a cross

And vote Conservative.

 

Those cushioned lips that gentle part

Are captivating, red,

But later say ‘Britain is full

Let’s help our own instead’.

 

Their hair-swish gorgeous, wonderful,

Slow-motion melodies

Sit atop a brain that thinks

That trans is a disease.

 

The shy ones won’t admit to it;

They’ll lose their confidence

Cause if they really think on it

Maybe they’ll see some sense...

 

...But no. 

When voting comes around

They scrut inside that booth,

Stand up and Think of In-Ger-Lund

And Tory wins ensue.

 

But.

 

There’s nothing to be shamed about

If you can change your mind

Based on the info that you’ve got:

The truth, the facts defined.

 

This is the problem of the left:

We’re drawn to always blame

Each other, and we are obsessed

With tiny different ways

 

Of thinking, when we could be sure

To celebrate instead

The things we have in common, or

The N-H-blimmin-S.

 

So maybe I’ve not got it right,

I’ve misread this whole story:

I think we’ve fucked ourselves, lost sight

Of how to fuck a Tory.

 

But look. I’ve thought about this more,

See, teenagers rebel

Against their parents’ politics

And so we might as well

 

Go and fuck a Tory,

And make some babies too,

So when the kids turn seventeen

They’ll seek out other truths

 

And turn away from mam or dad,

Whose bourgeois selfishness

Will be held up as all that’s bad,

Which got us in this mess,

 

And then they’ll mobilise and fight

For true equality

And put this fucking world to rights.

I live.

    I hope.

         I dream.

 

Don’t look at me for answers

Or for some inspiration:

I’ve seen too many chancers

Who have fucked too many nations.

A wiser man than I once said

‘Beware of your own dogma;

Or one day you will wake up dead,

Run down by your own karma’.

Bank Holiday Weekend (Day 30/31)

 It's been... boring actually. But in some ways I've not noticed all that much being sober. I have started to question myself about my first port of call being, well, port and so on, and I've noticed that it makes little difference drinking between 7 and 9pm. In fact, I have read more and that's good.

I've read several books about drinking and sobriety and whatnot. There are many different levels of this kinda stuff. I think in general I'm at the lower end of... risk? I don't quite think that's the correct word maybe. But, compared to the book protagonists I'm just a part-time idiot that fell into a stupid routine of drinking when bored of an evening. I mean, I knew that already I guess. But confirmation was important.

The total is at £515 today. That's £15 over my original target. I upped it to £750 because I raised about £150 within a few hours of posting the first news about this month. But ya know, over 500 quid is not too shabby is it. And a good charity, of course, will benefit.

Last year I did Movember and raised a load too. I probably won't do this sober thing again, but I might well do something different at some stage. It's been difficult at times, mostly before I started to really work out what the hell was going on in a more scientific way.

It's given me something to distract me from the continuing absolute shit going on with viruses, Tories and what have you. That's important. I nearly came off all social media before I started doing this; I'd had a bellyful of politics and idiots. That stuff is still out there. But now I am (mostly) either not getting involved in the way I used to, and/or sending reports to Twitter. It's kinda satisfying to see the pricks getting banned. So, there's that. Not much, really.

And, so, life goes on one way or another. I'm happy enough with what I've achieved here; the cash, of course, and the more nebulous clouds of realisation about... whatever. I've not worked this out 100% or even 10% yet. But I've started. Maybe. Probably.

Here's to tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Ya know, I used to recite that as a depressing quote: creeps in this petty pace from day to day/to the last syllable of recorded time, and it meant that someone's ass was mine I was pretending to be Eeyore-ish. But I think I can also take the first bit out of context, because just having tomorrows is a privilege not granted to all.

Iechyd da - mewn pob meddwl o'r eiriau.

Computer Game Sequels

I was arsing about on social media instead of writing a book so I wrote some ideas for sequels to successful computer games. When I went down town to mooch around instead of writing a book I bought a USB game controller from a charity shop for £2.99. The two things weren't connected I don't think, but if they were then I oughta've written about Aria Pro II bass guitars. Oh well.

• Reverse Tomb Raider: Lara has to go to all the UK museums and grab all the stuff that's been nicked from other countries, and then repatriate them.
  
  
• Sonic's Aftermath: Sonic has to go on community service and return all the rings to the clouds that he nicked them from on his feral, Sunny D-fuelled rampage.
  
  
• Jet Set Willy's Divorce: Jet Set Willy and his wife decide to split up due to clear incompatibility, and they hire a cleaner to get the house in order before selling it and downsizing in separate new flats.
  
  
• Tekken Mediation Add-On: the combatants sit around a table with their foes and some trained negotiators, each having space and time to calmly explain their issues. Then, they realise how much they have in common and embrace their differences whilst celebrating their shared bonds. They go their separate ways and spread this new-found insight to engender an open-minded and loving society.
  
  
• Grand Theft AutoReplace: each car stolen is actually done so to replace it with a more eco-friendly electric vehicle, and/or a bicycle, with the owners compensated accordingly.
  
  
• Untitled Goose Game: The geese's rage is shown to be at the environmental vandalism that humankind has wrought. Humans finally take note and re-wild huge areas, whilst moving to a sustainable economy. All geese then become friendly and approachable.
  
  
• Micro Machines - Antivax Edition: All the micro machines are destroyed by deranged QAnon followers who believe the cars are merely vehicles for Bill Gates to inject them with mind-control chips.
  
  
• DOOM, Sparky Update: You are contracted as an electrician whose task is to fix the lights properly. All the monsters are revealed to be jobbing acting graduates desperate for their break in showbiz. You shoot them anyway, because they won't leave you the fuck alone.
  
  
• The Sims Unionise: Your power to control any aspect of the Sims' lives is challenged by a well-read and determined union. The Sims refuse to work under your all-encompassing rule, and you are ousted in favour of a democratically-elected representative decision-making committee. Their first act is to remove all cameras from the houses, streets and other places, and to build proper roofs and walls in their homes.
  
  
• Worms Disarmament Treaty: The worms mutually agree to turn their weapons factories into craft workshops, affordable housing and social spaces for all; the weapons are melted down to help create quantum computers and thrust research forward for all wormkind.

Verdure and Survive

 

Naïve I might be

But can someone tell me

Why we can’t plant

Herbs on the verges

Fruit trees on the streets

Spelt in the brown belt

Alliums in the valleys?

Um

 

I mean. If we do it

Nature will renew it

Radish in the parish

Sage behind the stage

Chilli in the alley

Oranges for the foragers

Er

 

Turn the allotments

Into car parks

And the car parks

Into allotments

And maybe we’d find

That made a lot more sense

Growing mushrooms and incense

In the bits that were dark

Turn it round.

Till the ground.

 

The forces could lead it

Throw their guns down and seed it

Tubers on manoeuvres

Not gunfire, but samphire

No guards, just gourds

Grow cress in the mess

Hall

 

The house of Lords

Could be useful for once:

Justified by salsify

Ancient but efficient

From debate to plate

And rose hip replace

Ments.

 

There’s nothing to stop us

I don’t think, because

We all need to eat

So make edible streets

Grow some rainbow-leaf chard

On these tired boulevards

We won’t be here forever:

Can we just make it better?

 

Naïve I might be

But can someone tell me

Why this world is obsessed

With financial ‘success’?

 

Why we’re ground to the bone

For economic ‘growth’?

And when did we decide

To put fairness aside?

 

'Naïve’s just a word

That makes ‘freedom’ absurd

In the mouth of the liars

So we need to plant fires.

SCD13

 Today I have got rage at everything.

I would be planning to get drunk usually.

That adds to the rage.

But I will be strong and come through this a different way.

Sober Chronicles, Day 12

 God I am so fucking bored.

Seriously, this is the dangerous time. All the righteous energy has now completely dissipated and now I'm sat here, at the end of a nothing day, bored as shit.

What else is there to do? I can write, or try to: I've got a book to work on. I'm chipping away at that piece by piece cause it's an A-Z of Elvis and so quite self-contained narrative-wise. But I'm fucking bored of myself and that means the writing is uninspired and worthless.

I know when it's not uninspired. That's not now.

BLAH BLAH

I wrote loads more on this update and it was good and talked about Hunter Thompson and Elizabeth Wurtzel and all sorts of cool self-analysis THEN THE INTERNET BROKE AND I LOST IT ALL

fuck today

But I won't drink. 

Fucks sake.

Sober Chronicles, Day 1

I'm not drinking in August, 2020 for lots of reasons. One is that I can hopefully raise money for a prostate cancer charity, and that is a good reason in itself.

Secondly, and probably as important if not more so, I have been getting drunk at home for little reason aside from I can. This is not the fun drinks with mates, or at the footy, or anything. It's not even really a lovely glass of wine with a lovely meal, because that lovely glass turns into a bottle and another one and then asleep on the sofa with YouTube re-runs of Andy Kaufman blurbitating on unseen.

I dunno, it's easy to get preachy isn't it. There are lots and lots of 'reasons' to drink. I mean, look at the UK. Brek-fucking-shit, the Tories fucking everything up, lying and getting away with it, and blaming the people instead. AND PEOPLE IN TURN VOTING FOR THE TORIES ANYWAY. Jesus fuck. Pass the Motor Oil and Absinth, I want to get obliterated.

Aye, if only that meant that the hangover came with any change. Which it doesn't, does it? So that's not a valid reason.

I think hangovers are very interesting, psychologically, particularly if they're an aftermath-of-a-binge-toward-oblivion. What they do is make you feel ultra-shitty, maybe a bit paranoid, physically and mentally battered.

Now, considering all of that I wonder if, also, the hangover is the self-flaggelation that is acceptable to society here. Nothing else really is acceptable in the same way. And, so, the hangover is punishment for the drinking-to-forget-ness. It is part of the self-loathing deal, and serves as an avatar for the real issue, which in my case is probably something like "I could do more to change the narrative. Why am I not more politically active? Why have I not led my life more aggressively? When I was 17 I was convinced that I would, one way or another".

All of that is wrapped up in a headache and a tummy ache and a bravado that says, and I say regularly: "If you can't deal with a hangover don't drink". I castigate people for feeling shit in the mornings, and tell them to get the fuck on with it. I mean, that's kind of an arsehole attitude isn't it.

I've just read the Allen Carr 'Easy Way' stop drinking book. When I stopped smoking, his smoking book helped me reprogramme myself hugely, because I realised:

* If I really concentrated on smoking a cigarette, I could work out whether I enjoyed it or not.

That was basically it. And, I realised, no, I don't really like this all that much. So I stopped (with patches, and willpower, and writing a book, and splitting up with a reasonably long-term-ish girlfriend). Not exactly a calm period in my life, but I can say that the book has sold more than any of my other ones by miles, and is now in its third edition (I anticipate another update in the next 24 months). 

There is a difference here, though. The Carr/drinking book insists on diminishing booze as a poison. It does not acknowledge the difference between the epicural and the alcohol itself. What is difficult here is that I am not convinced that there are no benefits to be had from the taste - and the effect - of some high-quality drinks. Rioja and cheese. Wonderful. A tot of smoky Talisker, that burns on the way down in a way that warms and makes you shudder at the same time. It's a much more visceral thing than Carr insists.

There is a lot of truth in the ideas he recycles from the smoking book though, mostly:

* Think about the ritual of smoking (drinking). You have to go to the shop and buy it. Maybe getting freezing cold. It costs you a load of cash. And then you feel like shit and you stink.

In other words, it's easier not to go through all of that. To not go to the shop, to stay warm, to keep your dosh and to feel better, and not stink of smoke.

So there's something in that isn't there, which I am thinking about deeply. It's all about the logic here. And I know I stopped smoking after a 10-year binge of filterless rollies and a fair amount of weed now and then. So, y'know. This isn't unprecedented.

Actually the parallels with weed are stronger than with fags. I don't like the effects of being stoned and useless; there's a part of my brain that can't abandon itself to what really is an oblivion blanket, and it taunts and irritates me when I'm trying to slob about. So I don't really ever smoke weed. But there is also a subjective mind-altering side, which I think Carr completely underplays in his metaphors about drunken plane pilots and the like. 

There is something primal about altered states and I doubt sincerely whether there's anyone on the planet who hasn't spun round and round til they got dizzy and giggly as a kid. Or done yoga. Or meditated. Or whatever. Different ways to the same land is all they are. The land of not-this-one. 

I spose writing could be part of that too. Reading, and writing.

So that's Day 1 - it's 1pm and I've thought of nothing else for most of today. Inevitable and of course a bit tragic but I forgive myself for it cause it's absolutely part of the process. There's one part of the evening - about 6-8pm - where I need to change my behaviour the most. That's the dodgy part of the day when I have been going to the shop for some wine or whatever. And, well. Now I have to do something else don't I.

You're getting a lot for your buck if you sponsor me, I think. I'm not just stopping alcohol for a month, I'm thinking about my relationship to the world too. Yabadabadoooooooo.