Fucked.

So, I lost September.

I got Covid again (5th time) and it kicked my arse.  My vertigo is back, I’m even more out of breath now than I was before at the easiest of human actions and I won’t have a sleeping pattern for as long as I live, but even for me this is taking the piss.  This is what it’s made me think;

I’m fucked.  In several ways.  I have a bad right ankle, bad left knee, bad right wrist, two bad shoulders, a chemical imbalance in my brain, an immunoglobin deficiency, years of Citalopram absolutely decimated my memory, concentration and gave me random pins and needles that I’ll get for the rest of my life to add to the shakes that will probably only get worse.  Not going to talk about the perpetual night terrors or completely weird, random dreams that mean that when I finally do get to sleep, it does me no good.  I find myself being strangely emotional and just feel like a broken toy.

A month of being in bed has made me overthink, see.

The world’s fucked.  Culture has become totally devoid of it, people are completely detached from consequence, causality and reality and priorities have crumbled from how to live, to becoming a day-to-day grind to get the most out of doing as little as possible.  No one wants to be judged, belittled or discouraged while they spend their day judging, belittling and discouraging anyone that thinks, speaks or acts differently to how they would do it themselves and that’s before we get to how each other look.  We’re supposed to be supportive and gracious, allowing people to dress however they wish, believe whatever they may and simply be as they need or want to be. But we don’t, do we? We scoff and badmouth.  To do so without reproach we jump on a bandwagon to make an example out of someone now and again for something utterly spurious and as long as we’re part of a mob then we think it’ll let us slip away unnoticed to continue our two-faced nonsense. We watch each other play video games.  We watch each other watch tv.  We watch each other go further and go lower.

Art’s fucked, too.  As a people, we want to be able to get everything instantaneously wherever we may be, whatever the mood.  Which is fine, I suppose.  We’re a very instant-gratification type of species.  But when you stream everything, completely ignorant to the demise of the passion that goes into your music, imagery or movies, you’ll be caught one day with AI generated, soulless shite because people wont be able or willing to do it anymore.  Albums are streamed, so the anticipation of a new album release in a CD or vinyl or even a cassette, opening the booklet and reading lyrics or seeing pictures or messages from the bands or artists is gone.  Yet we all want the option.  It’s “such a shame” when an artist goes under, not being able to afford to keep creating content.  But streaming platforms have money pouring in.  Movies are going straight to streaming sites, so the experience of seeing something on the big screen with a great sound system is being used less and less.  “Such a shame” when a cinema shuts down.  Computer games are being bought online and downloaded straight from an online store.  “Such a shame” when you’re being teased with zero physical copies being made anymore.  The problem is that we all want the option.  We don’t necessarily want to use that option, because it might cost a fiver or make us leave our house.  We buy everything online and have it delivered to the door but fucking complain when we walk down the street and all the shops have shut.  Such a fucking shame.  All because we want the options that we never use.  Just in case.

Food.  Fucked.  Everyone wants massive portions and pay bugger all to have them.  Restaurants then need to pay staff less, rather than charge more.  Which is horrible.  But they also need to charge more because the rates for everything are going up.  So the staff get fucked harder.  Making the art of food and the joy that comes from it turn into who can fuck who harder, quicker and run.

Years from now, there’ll be no chefs, replaced by people willing to cook what they’re told, how they’re told for pittance.

Years from now, there’ll be no musicians, game designers, shop owners.  Fuck it, bars will be fucked because department stores are buying up all the alcohol licences.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just too grumpy.

On the other hand, I want you cunts do go without for a while, just to let it sink in that the ways need to change.  If you want options – you have to use the options.

All of this doesn’t really matter, though.  Because, as a herd, we’ve already let corrupt shepherds back us into a corner.  Corporations, politicians and religions have us so thoroughly under their bootheels that the general standard of living can’t even be called that.  We chew the grass they lead you to and then, when it suits them, they slaughter us. All because our forbears were cowards and idiots.

And so are we.

Thank fuck I wont have a long life.

Lately I’ve been realising that I’m just waiting to die.  And that’s ok.  I’ll try to make people happy while I’m here.  I’ll try to make music and write stories.  I know I’ll try.  It’s just, right this minute, it seems pointless.