Ponderous

Is it just me, and it’s perfectly possible, but is are we all living in a stupidly unfair, stupidly unequitable and insanely illogical civilization? I know we have a fairly acceptable life here in Blighty, but it just seems like the whole world is organised to keep we little people down. This bothers me.

I work 50 hours a week. That’s a lot. Surely that’s classed as a lot… do you know how much I have in the bank? -£197.72. I have no food in the fridge, little electricity left, and have to find bus fare. This is because of bank charges. Help yourself to look at the profit figures for banks over the last year. They’re quite impressive. And feel free to make a rough estimate as to how much these bank people are being paid for TAKING MY MONEY OFF ME. Conjecture, if you will, as to how long they actually spend in the office of a week. Calculate their house size. Consider the fact that if I wasn’t doing MY job, people such as that wouldn’t be able to do THEIRS. So why is my pay so shite?

And pay in itself. What fucking use is money? Bit’s of paper or low value metal with a picture of an unelected scrounger on one side. We spend our whole live’s clambering after the bloody stuff and it makes now sense. you can’t eat it, drink it, wear it, sleep under it, but we swap it with people who give us things we can eat, drink etc. Now, why don’t we just barter? Far easier and it ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE!

I know this is pretty much the innane rantings of a man who’s had too much coffee and REALLY doesn’t feel well, but I’m beginning to get really disillusioned with everything. I know my cynicism and caustic anti-establishment views are quasi-legendary, but I’m beginning to go past general griping and really suffering a continuing, creeping melancholic anxiety. It’s not fair the crap we all have to put up with. All I want is a quiet life, a house, a little family and enough food, drink, books, music and LAUGHTER to keep me sane. That’s all I’m after. I don’t want £12,000,000 a year and a mansion- why do I deserve that more than anyone else? I do, however, surely deserve a chance at getting home/family/chablis without having to kill myself through overwork. The hours we all do and the jobs we love so much are basically shat on by managers, directors, bankers, brokers, solicitors, lawyers… whoever you want to choose.

I really need to go somewhere else. Anywhere. I’m thinking about selling all my stuff and going somewhere. Backpacking or Mongolian trail riding or something along those lines. I need free horizons and the feeling that I actually have some control on my life, not faceless, nameless people in offices at the other end of inhuman mail merge letters and non-English speaking call centre workers. I need time to wonder off the map for a bit… and the funny thing? Even if I sold everything I had, every bit of bedding, every toy, games console, bit of furniture, bit of bedding whatever… if I sold all of it I STILL WOULDN’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO GET ANYWHERE. We are all trapped in an unbreakable cage of social injustice and suspect morals and bloody minded capitalism.And it makes me dman miserable.

At least there’s coffee…