My Life In The Knife Trade

It is, of course, a rough old world out there. Seriously. Rough as hairy bear's arse.

Sometimes the sheer futility of it all can be maddening, at other times it can be a comforting notion.
I can't pretend to have any kind of answers or advice, I can only speak from the perspective of a damaged individual whose mates are amused by his negligable ability to combine swear words on the internet.
So since it's the internet and everyone else does it (I just want to be accepted! *sob*) lets rip off Orwell!

You want to imagine life? Imagine smashing your head against a brick wall. Forever.

(I always liked the word "Forever" and the concept, something so unimaginably big & incomprehensible we had to dilute it's meaning down to homeopathic levels of weakness with pissy shallow love songs.)

So why bother? Really.
Well, why not? There are other options, but they're no option at all really. However comforting the thought of them may occasionally be. (Or No Matter how much I am haunted by the fact that despite all the light speed progress in the realms of science I am never going to be able to piss Skittles. The sweets. Not the little wooden pins you used to hurl at girls you liked back in those hazy First School days. What's wrong with you people??)
No. What keeps me (keeps us?) hanging in there is a saucy cocktail of pig faced stubborness and bitter delight at the thought that I am a walking, talking (or more accurately shuffling, swearing) middle finger salute at whatever organising principle there may or may not be behind everything, a spiteful gesture combined with a comedic bumwave at forever (there's that idea again!) alongside a simple, ultimately childish believe that if I (if we) keep at it for long enough I can break a brick wall with my skull.

sjs x