Sunday, 17 July 2011
My hiatus starts now.
Hiatus from WHAT you wanna know?
My answer? From football.
Football can be a fabulous means of taking leave of your senses. Not as fabulous a means as powerful and illegal narcotics, but probably on par with your garden-variety pescription meds. You know, the ones no doctors want to give out any more? Yeah, those ones.
And football doesn't lend itself particularly well to deep thinking. Oh, sometimes I get existential and 'what's it all about-ish' when I'm watching great big men go at it, but not often - NOT OFTEN ENOUGH - and I always come crashing back down to the horror of the here-and-now when one of them opens their mouth to speak post game or whatever, or when Freddy Fittler breaks in with what they genereously classify as 'sideline commentary'. So, not often enough, no.
Meanwhile.....sands, hourglass, all that shit........it's getting torrential.
Distracting myself from the darkness of my soul is all well and good, but I have Important! Things! To Think About!
When you rise early and put on Jane's Addiction loud as it goes before you've even got your ugg boots / pants / wig on, and are jolted awake by Perry Farrell screaming "YOU GIVE ME BREADCRUMB UHH-HUHH, AND I'M TIRED OF LIVING THE BOSSES DREAM" in Whores - the aural equivalent of a simultaneous fuck-you kiss and a rebel-or-die kick in the throat by a leather corset-clad extraterrestrial ocean child - you better believe that upheaval is imminent and make the fuck sure that it happens.
Name the time and place, and look for the girl with the wild and jaundiced gleam to the eye. We'll take it from there.
"...............no talking man / all action"