Fear

So, rum and coke. Rum and coke. Its like they say in that movie Dune (which is a million times better than the book by the way). I believe it goes something like this: "Rum is the mind killer. Rum and coke is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my Havana Club with lime. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn my little pink eye to see its path. Where rum and coke has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
Obviously drinking everyday is great but do you know what I like even more? Fear. Cant beat a bit of fear. Did you ever know anyone who just couldnt finish something unless they were afraid of the consequences of their failing to complete it? I mean be honest, thats basically you and me isnt it. You know that stack of stuff youre supposed to be working on is sitting on your right desk right now laughing at you, going "HA HA HA youve been mucking around on the internet for fucking hours now and you've done nothing and you're actually listening to that guy instead! Youre so screwed hee hee!" If theres one piece of advice I could offer at this point, never ever listen to me or take my advice. Itll be the death of you. Its a scary fact that listening costs more lives than smoking probably. You know, spies and so on, loose lips cost tips etc etc?
Some of my buddies live in this huge decrepit farm house out in the sticks, surrounded by miles of nothing but empty fields Its the prefect spot for murdering female students and wearing their skin and... Erm, well, I expect it would be...can we forget I mentioned that? Cool.
Anyway the other night I was lying on the floor in front of the hearth baked on MD thinking about the important role fear plays. At the time Me and Me were shouting at eachother, Memory Man was throwing in apparently random scraps of real or simulated audio and video and I was ignoring them and thinking about how I was ever more rapidly burning my wages on drugs which wasnt leaving much for food. This scared me and so I was thinking about which items of food I could therefore drop from my shopping list but Me and Me piped up an suggested I look at the problem from the other direction. Otherwise, they suggested in unison Id soon surely get fired and have to go entirely without food and in the worst case drugs altogether, which none of the people in my mind were happy about. Then they all clubbed together and tried to scare me into action to drink less and spend less money so I could afford my income tax. Obviously, the fire was warm, my recent climbing in the orchard had tired me nicely and the beer was sitting well so I told them to shut it and thought about tits instead, but I left a mental post-it to myself to look into it.

My apartment used to look like a crack den, indeed before I moved in was just that, which upset the guy downstairs when some toughs knocked his door off its hinges three times in as many days because they couldnt tell the difference between a 2 and a 3. I still get the poor junky's mail but havent the heart to start writing cheques for £56 which is all he ever has in his account on giro day. If he gets a job however Im on it.
So it used to be a crack den, but since my lease is coming up and the place is for sale and I like living 14 seconds staggering distance from some bars that hardly ever shut, Im being extra careful to make the landlord let me renew. Thanks to fear of living in my car the place has never been tidier. Within the unwritten limits that say I can still fill the sink with shit and have some cloths and books lying around its a like a 3d Mondrian painting. Its still the same junk, but because any object's edges are now either parallel or perpendicular to every other its spick and span. Cheers fear, you made me act when small scuttling movements in the floorboards barely illictied a resigned groan.
When my car explodes, and it often does being French and made of the stuff they used to make Big Mac boxes out of, I find I can think quicker and more clearly than I have done for weeks. Fear sharpens the senses, brightens the outlook and makes a person decisive and quickwitted. Crises can be fun. Obviously Im not suggesting the yawning horror of a bereavement is cause for breaking out the toothy grins but the smaller midscale stuff is exciting as shit. Isnt it? What did you do at 3:30pm last Thursday? I dont care, but I bet it pales compared to the last time you accidentally set the room on fire.
By the way, as if to live up to its fast food roots I found mayonaise in the oil system of the car today. Looks like the head gasket has gone on the right hand cylinder bank. The money for my "tax bill" is in that car. Can you believe it, it turns out I'm supposed to, I dunno, donate a load of money to the "government" next "year". Since when?! Thats cash I spent making my liver and lungs go black, dont they get it?
So, returning to what Me and Me were talking to me about, fear resulting from the black stuff in my sick, and the hibernation instinct brought on now that the time we are not in our offices or studios is rust-black and streetlight-yellow and brakelight-red and Icanfugginsee!-motorway spray-grey has made me stop drinking so much rum and coke. Its a seasonal thing, times change and I figure Id best give my internal organs and short-term memory a break before the marathon of the Festive Season.
To this end I went to the Oxfam bookshop and bought £31 of books, which is about 400 of them. From now on Ill be sitting in with the Penguin Dorothy Parker or the entire Science Fiction Masterworks series having a fucking CRAZY PARTY. Its going to rock: seeya later friends, I wont be needing you. The pain of seperation is pretty brutal of course, and Ive been toasting Ol' Rum and cokes passing with a few whisky and cokes. I feel a bit disloyal that for the time being I wont be devoting myself to keeping my local barstaff gainfully employed, as I know they have habits to feed (sorry guys) but Im sure they'll get by.
Plus Ill have time to do other stuff. Putting up shelves? Fuck yeah let's have a shelf party! This is going to be AWESOME!!
Finally fear is good for work. I cant draw for shit unless Ive rolled in late sweating sugar and have a 3pm deadline which is why Im glad Im giving up drin- hang on! If I completely quit I wont be able to work up to the necessary level of anxiety required to work productively. Which means I cant completely give up! Its a chain of stainless steel logical links that cant be broken. I guess I ll just join the other 50million people in this country who are 'cutting down.' We can make it friends.
Fear, I salute you.