Er...Tax. And death! And so on.

Tax. Tax tax tax. I don't pay tax. I'm like the queen in that respect, except nobody forces the queen to work at McDonalds. I don't work, I don't have the time or the inclination. Also, I'm desperately ill. Apparently. But if you do pay tax, you might be interested to know that a large portion of it goes to extremely rich companies in the form of farm subsidies. Check out monbiot.com if you want to learn more about this. Whoever you are.
Now on to a more interesting subject; the terrible pain and misery in which I spend every day. Instead of writing stories I've decided to paint pictures. Pictures in the form of stories. Because pictures can be kind of abstract and open to a lot of interpretation, they generate emotional responses that can be unique to the viewer rather than spelling things out for you. So basically I want to write like a painter. Or something. I dunno. Then I'll try painting like a writer. And then...singing like a psychologist. Yes. Many people consider psychology to be an art form and not just Hannibal Lecter. Me, for one. What do I know about psychology? What do you know about psychology? Well then.
What?

Panic Over

Yes, once again I let the paranoia get the better of me. What an incredibly handsome fool I've been. It wasn't her, of course, and my legendery powers of premonition have failed once more. I really should stop letting dreams get the better of me. So I felt relieved, then incredibly guilty having forgotten that someone has actually died. Probably a couple of hundred yards from my house.
So now, finally, I'm going to get some sleep and tomorrow the world will look...like the same godawful shithole it looks like every day. Hastings.

Scared Again

And here is why. A young woman, unidentified, has been found dead on the West Hill and the night before I found this out I had a dream about a young woman that I know. Not that kind of dream. I don't have those kind of dreams. The reason I'm scared is that, as avid readers of this site(me. And maybe James. Who is James? Nobody knows...)will know, I once had a dream about someone before waking up and finding out they were dead. Now that I've written this down it seems absurd. Ridiculous. I'm not as scared as I was twenty seconds ago. If I'd known that writing down my fears could make me realise how ridiculous they are years ago, I'd have had a much better life than I have. Had. Still can't sleep though. Could I make three posts in one night? Stay tuned for...who am I talking to? What the fuck is going on?

Pinter, Power and...er...Peace! Yes.

Just been reading Harold Pinter's nobel prize aceptance speech. Beautiful. How is it that all the people who would make perfect world leaders turn out to be artists or writers or musicians? Not that all those things aren't important of course. Its because your artist doesn't want that kind of power. And things are set up so that those who want power the most are the ones who rise to the top. Like scum. These are exactly the kind of people who should never be allowed power. Look at Blair. He was all set up to step down this year then someone blows up London and suddenly he gets to look like the great statesman again. And he gets that power rush and now we're stuck with him for years. If you look at what he's actually done then his image crumbles-he's constantly put business interests ahead of the interests of the people, he's followed America like a lamb on a leash, he's started the privatisation of the NHS...I could go. But New Labour is all about image. That's why they've spent much, much more on PR consultants than any party in British history. The whole thing rests on the fact that no-one really looks at the details.
Montreal...yes, as far as I can work out they are actually going to agree on something. They're going to agree to have another conference some time in the future. This is all because some of the delegations, China and You-Know-Who in particular, are basically saying: "we don't care if the world ends as long as we're still rich when it does."
And a peace protestor from my lovely home town is going to jail for standing outside the houses of parliament and reading a list of names. I can't watch the news these days without seeing at least one thing that makes me want to puke all over the screen.
On a lighter note; Margaret Thatcher is ill. I hope that you'll all join me in wishing her a slow and agonising death. Sorry, that's cruel isn't it. OK, a quick and agonising death. Oh, what the hell, as long as she dies I'll be happy.
Bye now, take care...

Amusing End of the World Situation Arising

Well, they met in Montreal to discuss climate change. The result? Nothing. You have to laugh. I heard an analyst saying on the news that no-one could have expected these talks to produce any new targets, but at least the process of setting new targets would have started. Take your time boys-in the next two decades the sahara will have doubled in size, Britain will have the climate of Siberia and America will have been slapped silly by so many hurricanes they'll declare drowning to be a national passtime. Kyoto runs out in twenty twelve. America still won't agree to even try to cut its emissions but at least they'e honest about it(yes America is honest about somethings) unlike Blair who promised to cut emissions then agreed to building a shitload of new airports which will produce more carbon than he agreed to cut. You have to laugh really. Because there's bugger all we can do about it. We're not rich enough to have a say, and the rich are the ones who benefit from all this planet-raping. No matter how much they agree to cut down carbon emissions unless its 90% it won't make a blind bit of difference. And a cut that big would mean a huge change in the lifestyles of....everyone. Either way you look at it, it is indeed the end of the world as we know it. And I'm a hypocrite. I don't drive, but I'm still producing much more carbon than I have any right to. And I can't stop. So its goodbye world I suppose. Ho hum. This rant has kind of turned on me so I'm going to end it while I still have my dignity. I really should think things through before I write them...

Yes, I Am

Bush. Surely if there was a god he'd have sent a few lightening bolts in the chimp's direction. Then again, if you believe the bible, god was a bloodthirsty, genocidal sadist so perhaps he does approve of all the torture and murder going on in his name. Of course its easy to pick holes in religion. Like the old 'proof denies faith' chestnut. Very convienient. But what about all the burning bushes and ten commandments stuff? All the miracles and general wierdness that apparently went on? That would count as proof, surely? There's just no consistency. And anyway, if you're going to chose as religion, why choose one that involves making yourself miserable all your life? Why isn't voodoo the dominant religion? You get to raise the dead here, people! Its a no brainer. Of course I'm much happier without any kind of belief system. Oh yes. Thats why I sit up at three in the morning writing this pompous shit. I wish I wasn't so pompous but I can't help it. Damn inferiority complex. I blame the government.
We've all made mistakes. Well, haven't we?