In TWENTY SEVEN DAYS I will become 18. An adult. A MAN. I think this means that I'll suddenly grow a long bushy beard, will develop a taste for fine ale, a love of red plaid shirts, and an appreciation for the soothing music of Simon (but not Garfunkel, the cunt). This has caused me to have many deep philosophical thoughts about my own existence vis-a-vis the ending of my childhood and the spending of my youth. And let me tell you I WAS NOT IMPRESSED WITH WHAT I SAW. The more I thought, the more of the adorable little experiences of childhood I seem to have totally missed out on. I never ran barefoot through the fields wearing a straw hat and tattered dungarees to catch a fat juicy trout for dinner. I never got a girl pregnant and then had to get my father to beat her to death with a golf club to protect the family honour. I never even ODd on drugs and collapsed on the beach, only to be rescued by my lesbian lover. Never gone to a concert. Never thrown a wicked-awesome party. To be honest I have totally wasted my childhood.
I think the depression started when I got the girlfriend back again. YEAH THANKS A LOT LUCIA YOU'RE DUMPED. No I'm kidding. Or am I? Yes I am.
For some reason, I have somehow been lucky enough to lassoo the 17 year old female version of Superman - she just flies about doing millions of awesome things and living Life To DA FULL. She's like a Diet Coke advert. Except she's not a tortoise. This makes me sad, because I tend to be quite an inert person. I don't like being inert, but goddamnit if I have nothing to do, I'm not gonna go skateboarding; I'm going to sit at home staring at the wall complaining to myself at having nothing to do. I always do this on Summer Holidays and so far I've enjoyed it fine. But now I'm spending my time with The Most Active Girl On The Planet, I have been doing some comparing and I'm not gonna lie, I'm not impressed with the relative emptiness of my own existence. For fuck's sake Thomas. PEOPLE MY LIFE IS HOLLOW AND MEANINGLESS. I tried to fill the void (heh, fill the void), with a variety of activities. Art, for example:
Yep.
Then I tried to get a job and realised that after more than a decade of expensive schooling, I have literally no marketable skills. Everyone else I know is a super-qualified musician or windsurf instructor or makes opium in a secret drug-lab in his attic. I have ten A*s at GCSE and I am refused work wherever I go. Although my theory is that HMV probably rejected my application because it featured the words "I have literally no retail experience whatsoever," followed by a little picture of a smiley face, and contained a claim that I'd managed to revolutionise anglo-romanian relations by teaching the Romanian art department French (nb: is a lie).
BUT THIS DOES NOT CHANGE THE FACT THAT I HAVE DONE LITERALLY NOTHING WITH MY CHILDHOOD. What can I put on the CV? "Quite good at English and blogging and sarcasm". And even the blogging seems to have taken a nose-dive, especially following the total lack of response to the last post, and the drought of inspiration I've having right now. So then I found myself questioning the very core beliefs of my existence. Am I really going anywhere in my life? PERHAPS I'm not as good at everything as I think. Perhaps I'll just end up wasting my life in a boring office job because I'm too damn useless to get up and do something exciting. I was basically staring at a dark abyss in which all my dreams and aspirations were being eaten up by my own mediocrity.
I'm not gonna lie, I considered taking the ultimate step. Yes, I was gonna go emo. I ponced about wearing skinny jeans, and I stabbed myself in the eye with a paperclip listening to Hawthorne Chemical Height Romance. It didn't make me feel much better but it DID give me a really interesting story to tell my optician (nb: is a lie. I don't have an optician. My eyes aren't retarded like yours).
What else? Oh yeah:
- I'm broke
- I'm never gonna pass my driving test
- My life is empty and meaningless
- I started listening to Kosheen which to be honest is never a good sign
- I'm gonna fail A-Level French and have to repeat it next year. MERDE
- Everybody I know is fucking off on holiday again
- My goldfish died and I tried to bury him but then it turned out he wasnt dead and he leapt out of my hand and landed in a lawmower but even then he wasn't dead so I tried to recussitate him using a lightbulb but then it turned out that it killed him and cooked him and then my grandad ate him while I was weeping over his corpse
- I have a heat rash on my stomach
- WHINGE WHINGE WHINGE. IT'S MY PARTY AND I'LL CRY IF I WANT TO
So basically I was at a very dark and quite disturbing spiritual crossroads. On the one hand I could choose the path of the nihilist, making a proactive attempt to better my life by striking out on my own, making something of myself and becoming a success on my own terms. On the other, I could accept the fact that my life is never going to amount to much and sink into a depressing bile-filled swamp of mediocracy. There was, of course, a third option, which was to make some really shallow and aesthetic changes, pretend that I'd somehow struck out on my own without doing anything major, and continue to float through life in my own slightly depressed bubble. To be honest, the correct path sticks out for me like a shining lightbulb of beauty.
So, with no further ado, may I present... MY NEW BLOG!!!!11!!!!!
HATCHET ZOMBIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hatchet: a single handed striking tool with a sharp blade used to cut and split wood.
See what I did there? Hatchet? Chainsaw? Hatchet's like a smaller version of a Chainsaw, which suits Hatchet Zombie's status as the Lite version of Chainsaw Zombie? You get me? It's funny, innit? I'm so smart. In case you are worried (why would anybody be worried about an internet blog?) the current blog will still function as normal (ie: me posting a 500 million word long post every week which nobody's going to read anyway). However, Hatchet Zombie will be a spawning ground for all the other shit that pops into my head in the meantime - three line posts, pictures of my penis with a little smiley face biroed on, reviews of Panic! at the Disco songs etc etc etc. Think about it this way: if Chainsaw Zombie is the Atom Bomb of comic blogging genius, then Hatchet Zombie will be, like, the Sub-Machinegun. That's a metaphor which I don't expect anybody to understand.
So in conclusion, yes, my genius requires TWO lame blogs to completely contain it. I'm that smart.
Sigh. Oh well, at least I'm not the guy hosting the remix show on XFM. What. A. Twat. "Mash-up" indeed. Wanker.
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