Four months and eight days ago, I asked for help on the life creating adventure I was to embark myself in. Help came to me in surprising ways and from many people, to whom I’ll always be infinitely grateful. And one day, someone out there will get a nice gift with a big pink bow on it from this here person.
After a series of tumbles, I somehow managed to settle down in my own place, supported by my very self through a remarkably crappy job. Oh yes. I am writing these very words from my own sofa, purchased by my own self with my own money, and from my own flat, not actually purchased by my own self, but rented, which is close enough. I tell you, you haven’t lived until you’ve lived on your own. Who would have known that eating from the pot and walking around with your hairy legs exposed could bring so much satisfaction?
My job can only be described with an expression I learned nay three days ago: pants. But should anyone’s curiosity be piqued to the extent of keeping you awake at night, or should you have nothing better to do this very second, let me add the following bullet point remarks which, if mixed in a blender and served cold, would amount to a fairly close picture of this job I endure. Fast food chain; coffee shop; minimum wage; crazy hours; no security; occasional free croissant.
Overall, conditions are less than ideal. But I’m living, and that’s what matters.
As for the location, I am pretty sure I am somewhere between Liverpool and Edinburgh. Everyone speaks English and the food is tasteless.
I am never leaving this place.
So now that I have a roof above my head and a hot meal guaranteed, at least when my job and the whether give me a long enough break to walk the 549 miles that separate me from the supermarket where the groceries are actually affordable for someone on the minimum fricking wage, which is almost NEVER the case, I can get to more important issues.
Like the Feminist – Leftist Revolution.
And no, I have no idea where to begin. Suggestions are always welcome.
There have been some changes in my political self. I can’t quite decide whether I’m becoming more radical or more conservative.
I don’t believe in democracy anymore. Or pacifism, for that matter. But I do believe in love, life, goddesses, gods, spirits and demons, which is a primer for me.
I am growing more and more sceptical of the real values of science, technology, education, language, rationality and the whole idea of “progress”.
I am also growing more and more intolerant with “liberalism”, “postmodernism”, and any other “individualistic, free market infused” ideology out there, particularly of the “progressive” and/or “feminist” variety.
And any feminist out there who thinks that “capitalism is a good thing” can kiss my grandiose butt in all its grandeur.
Oh, and I have drunk alcohol a couple of times. No change in behaviour has been perceived. At least none above the usual uncertainty in the measurement of my “normal” behaviour.
From now on you can expect a fair amount of controversial posts in this blog. Assuming I can get off my bum and actually write something.
It’s time to raise Hell. Just what I was put on this planet to do 
