I’m forever wondering what to do with myself, in the deeper sense of the sense of the word not the , “Oh it’s 8pm on a wet Wednesday, I wonder what I can do to kill time seeing as I don’t have a TV?” the answer to that is easy, free internet porn ;)
I don’t go out enough and when I do it’s a fairly typical routine, drink, eat, wake up the next morning and wonder what happened towards the end of the night and why it is I have great difficulty in recalling the previous nights events. I’m sure some psycho-babble would say I’m blocking out the events for some psychological reason; the usual explanation is the brain is blocking out things it doesn’t want to remember, I’m not so sure that’s true. I still remember that almost 9 years ago I met Amylou in the Slug and Lettuce by Fulham Broadway station before I started work, we drank, we laughed, we danced and we kissed. I know we kissed because everyone at work told me we did. They recounted in great detail how I leaned over the bar and locked lips while a few hundred people waited to be served causing one girl to ask if that was the quickest way to get served. As far as I can recall I have the vaguest recollection of leaning over the bar but the rest is gone, a mystery, nothing more than heresay… Why it should bother me I don’t know, every time I see Amylou I have a pang of anger and annoyance with myself…Why can’t I remember kissing her? It’s highly unlikely that we’ll ever kiss again and yet almost 9 years on I still think about it, that a million gazillion other things I can’t remember.
Ask me who stopped The Beatles getting to number 1 in 1966 and I can tell you in no uncertain terms that it was Englebert Humperdink and I wasn’t even born in 1966 but ask me what happened after I saw Johnny marsh play in Manchester a few years ago and I’ll have to rely on the evidence of Donna and Mikey who reliably informed me that I took such a shine to a girl in a club who had shiny red shoes on that I waited for her to come out of the ladies loo to ask her if it would be OK to kiss her feet, she said it would be acceptable and so I did… perhaps the brain was right in keeping me from that memory?!
Anyway, back to the thought at hand, what to do with myself. I want to do everything but nothing at all. I realise that it’s now almost 20 years since I left home and struck out on life’s great adventure alone. I also realise that pretty much for the last 20 years I’ve been on my own and the thought has started to creep in that I’ll somehow finish alone too. The great plans of wife, kids and a mortgage seem to be fading as fast as my memory. OK, perhaps the mortgage wasn’t a plan, roof over my head probably makes more sense as I’ve never really been obsessed with owning property. Society will tell you that renting is ‘dead money’ but you can stop paying your rent and walk away to the other side of the globe if you want with very little notice. own a property and you have weeks or months of paperwork to go through to extract yourself from it.
Sometimes I wonder if I should just resign myself to the fact that I may very well end up alone but a large part of me doesn’t want to contemplate that and yet I seem to be doing nothing to alter the course I’ve set for myself. Having been out of the dating game for so long it’s a bit tricky to just jump head first into it, not least because I have no idea what I actually want. One half of me wants to settle down with someone and think about growing old with kids and debt and arguments and nasty in-laws. the other half still wants to act like a teenager, go out and party, get drunk and have sex in the changing room of John Lewis while pretending to try on a pair of jeans.
If I were to ask myself what it is I wanted I would have to reply using the words of a song which handily enough has been sung by a rather groovy band called The Mentalists! that song is You Want It All and I do, and I want it yesterday now fucking give it to me!!
By the way, The Mentalists! have some tracks available to download from their site, pay them a visit :)