April 10th: Feel inspired

It was about time for another mid-life crisis. I'd postponed my last with moving countries, settling, and drinking heavily with my newfanagled friends. But what am I doing? What do I want? It's these questions that, while I writhe in my thought infested sick bed on my days off from serving social degenerates and saints (and never the twain do meet) coffee and sandwiches. 

I've always imagined an impressive life for myself. A life of travel and inhibition, where my stories were filled with dramatic and unlikely characters, filling the pages notebooks and reams of loose pages found decades after my sudden yet timely death by rhinoceros horn. Yet my living life, pre-humous to the incident with the land unicorn, I imagine to be just as intoxicating, raising statues of marble around the world to say I WAS HERE I WAS HERE I WAS HERE. 

If I were a dream, and if I were as motivated in the between moments as I am now, I would have done more with my days off this week than watch Friends and Brooklyn Nine-Nine and read Maya Angelou and book domestic flights and wait for phone calls and emails and the profit of ambition previously fulfilled to come to fruition. 

I admire goddesses, and gods. The god of Thunder never wondered what to do with his days, where he'd be in ten years, if he should save this £10 or buy the pizza (I bought the pizza). The gods never had to be adults and make adult choices. They'd behave like children unsupervised in a department store, wreak whatever havoc they felt inspired by, and continued their life in whatever direction chose them. And they get to do cool tricks like ride goats and make things disappear. ffs. 

x