unrite

I’m going to be 41 in a month. How the merry fuck did this happen? 41? I was only at school a couple of years ago, college was last month, university last week, then I started ‘working’ and whole years started to get munched in hours.

As far as I’m concerned I’m still killing time until I do my real job, trouble is I have pretty much forgotten what that was. If it was anything to do with my University Education I can forget that for a kick-off, I think I smoked/drank all that information out of my rapidly shrinking brain years/months/weeks/days ago. Looks like I’m stuck in a self-made rut without the slightest inclination to better myself, though I’ll aggressively maintain that I’m different to everyone else, gifted, special, when of course I’m just normal, or subnormal.

The realisation that one isn’t going to attain the heights of power and fame that were assumed as a given when one was 18, lolling about art class with my long hair and stupid trousers, still hasn’t hit me. Nor will it. I’ll still be writing this fucking blog until I draw my last wheezing breath arrogantly maintaining I will succeed in doing something about whatever it was. Go me!

I’ve been feeling very weird this week. I can’t put my finger on it but it feels as if I’m not within myself, as if I’m remotely viewing my conscious mind, like one of those new-fangled software devices that allows one to access office files from the comfort of your own bedsit. This oddness isn’t on all the time; I drift in an out of it. It’s a little like coming down off a not-very-smooth acid trip, or the aftermath of a weekend on amphetamines. It’s a little better today but I’m keen for it to fuck right off out of it, I’m in a bloody good frame of mind for the most part and it’s coming along and making me feel all mortal and, well, peculiar.

The fucking speedo on Brutta isn’t working. I’m trying to remain calm, everything is under warranty and I’m aware that when it comes to electronics the Italian manufacture theirs with ‘character,’ and not knowing how fast I’m going isn’t the end of the world and what have you… but it sort of emasculates the feeling of going quickly, it just rounds off the edge of the fun of well, riding like a fucking hooligan.

Anyway, at least I’m not going insane.

Bad quality, great song.