I am really depressed that the world didn’t end. Not because I wanted to die, but because it just highlighted how shitty and mundane life really is. Of course the world wasn’t going to end- it just carried on exactly the same as any other day, the same drivel and dross. I sat in bed feeling like crap that Saturday evening.
I imagine it’s like what people who beat a terminal illness feel like- after the initial
“fuck me, I’m alive!”,
then comes the realisation-
“oh shit, if I’m not going to die, what the fuck am I going to do with my time??!!”
It’s like when you’ve got a work deadline and you tell yourself “I can’t have fun until I’ve done it, I haven’t got time for anything else”, once you have down it, you HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR NOT DOING STUFF! It’s like hell because all you want is a new deadline to stop you from tidying the house or washing your clothes or eating properly.
If I was an atheist living near the Bible belt in America, I would have opened up shop offering “a rapture experience” for Christians who want a Plan B when the world doesn’t end. I would lock them in a room and beat the holy shit out of them, then charge them their life savings to leave. They will receive a certificate saying “I fought the devil and won”, and a tshirt saying “Saved the world and all I got was this shitty top”.
Yesterday Lisa decided that she was so poor, she needed to sell clothes on Ebay, but having already sold everything she had to sell what was left: the weird, freaky and disgusting clothes no one would ever want. What followed was the most fucked up fashion show I’ve ever seen.
Dom was charged with the task of photographing the hideous outfits, and Lisa tried to disguise her identity by wearing a shiny red wig and hacking into the plastic curls to create some semblance of a style. I had to write down the outfits. Esther just had to sit there and not laugh.
Here are a few of the outfits we witnessed:
Red spandex leggings with baby pink granny cardigan
Stripy swimming costume with leather studded fingerless gloves
Stripy pirate long johns that seem to have a vagine, with a black and gold polo neck jumper
Esther muses “Imagine if we buy Look next week, and it says “Look at this girl’s amazing Ebay fashion” and there’s a double page spread of your outfits!”
Dom and Lisa were spring cleaning my old laptop and stumbled across about 200 untitled audio files. They opened one up and heard my tuneless voice intoning
“I thought I was somebody
Turns out, I’m not”
“I’ve been ‘singing’ it all morning” said Lisa with excitement
“It sounded really profound when we first heard it” said Dom
I suddenly remembered that I had spent the Summer of 2009 skulking in the attic of our old house attempting to make music. I had a keyboard I found in a skip, a copy of Pro Tools and a microphone. While others have used these same ingredients to rewrite the rules of music, I used them to make aural manure.
As I played the list of tracks ranging from 2 seconds to 2 minutes, I became drenched in a cold sweat and thanked fuck that I had admitted defeat as a pop star. Esther finally admitted to me that I am “the worst singer in the world” and so I had a valid reason to jack it all in.
“We’re looking at pictures
Pictures are being looked at”
Went another snippet. And
“I’m going to sing till
I sound like me
I’m gonna sing till I sound like me
Repeated ad nauseum.
After a while, Dom said “It doesn’t sound profound anymore”
“I’ve been in the house too long” strained my voice on track number 199
“No shit” deadpanned Dom.
These files are the audio equivalent of projectile diarrhoea at the school prom, and I’m sure will be used against me should I ever achieve some modicum of fame.
Actually that’s a great excuse to give up all dreams of superstardom. Phew, I can relax now.