Monday, 25 November 2013

Life in Under a Thousand Words.

I was born, a protracted labour, and a large child. Three years passed, and my parents split, and both vanished from my life. I was reared by my grandma, Nanny. When I was six, there was my mother and my step-dad. Well, she wasn't my mother by then, but he was a star in many, many ways, when he wasn't beating the shit out of me.

I grew up. I took to theiving, naughtiness of all sorts, pre-pubescent pseudo-buggery and pseudo-blows, all the stuff the average 70s kid knows well. The 80s. I survived. The bomb wasn't nice. We all were terrified of it as kids at school. Not the instant boil of our flesh off our bones, but the fact that we would not be able to say goodbye to our family. Yes, I lived in Cheltenham. GCHQ.

My folks split up again in the late 80s. I argued with them both, passionately, as only a 15 year old could. To no avail. They both became dust in my heart. They failed. I took up rock-climbing, and pushed myself to a dangerous level for my ability. I had a chaste homo-erotic relationship with my best friend for those two years. It was all bound to fall apart. It fell apart before women came on the scene.

I ended up with my wife for 19 and a 1/2 years. We're still married - both too scared to offend to formalise the split. Four years now. Three boys. It was a long time, that 19 odd years. I can't go back to it, but it was good, mostly. Of course it had to end. My business imploded and during a nervous breakdown I was careless enough (and so was my wife who phoned the fucking doctor) to end up with a diagnosis of manic-depression. It meant in the immediate that I could not work because I couldn't be insured, and I was not allowed to drive for 18 months.

I gave the business to my old friend, who recompensed me with a little helping out when I was destitute and homeless. I should have sold it for at least half a million. On paper. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. I met another woman, a fascinating, irritating, gorgeous headfuck of a woman. I'm still trying. I'm very trying.

Life is a flash in the pan. I lose sleep thinking about my boys, about my woman's daughter, and their futures. The world is dying. The first world is almost dead, apart from the rich gits creaming the skim till they get eaten by the hungry. I've had a good life. I'm 42. I've done everything I wanted to do.

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