
I was at a party last night, I got drunk, talked rubbish and crashed into bed at 2am. The title of this post comes from something someone said at that party and it made me think of the odd stuff you spew out when you've had a few.
To put it in context we were talking about "posh wanks", which is where you crack one off with a rubber johnny on your knob. I confessed I'd never had a posh wank and a lady present chipped in with the above statement.
Classic.
Thanks for all the bed based feedback, it'll all be channeled into the show we're working on, so cheers ears!
Have I told you how great a human being John van der Put is? Well he is, one of the very best. He bought me a book that hit many notes with me, it's called "A Scanner Darkly" by Philip K. Dick. I won't tell you what it's about but I'll tell you what it stirred up in me.
I started thinking about my memory and how parts of my long-term memory are a mess and that's because of foolish things I did to myself and every day I pay a small price for all the excess I took part in and I wonder what I'll be left with when I'm old? Will my head be able to hold all the precious memories, or will they leak out of me no matter how hard I fight?
Will I lose who I am? Who am I anyway? What if I've built a fake me to fill in all the gaps? What if the gaps are a figment of my imagination? One of my old mates, who is same age as me, doesn't know who he is anymore, or who his family are, he doesn't even recognise his own kid due to what he (we) did to our heads to escape who we were. The irony being that in the long-term we may have actually achieved our goal and we'll be left wandering around some town, a piece of a puzzle, lost.