Fragmented Thoughts of a Adolescent Recovering from a Month-Long Mood Swing/Manic Depressive State/Period of Mental Stagnation
Herman Hesse. Narcissus and Goldmund. The Rotters Club. Acceptable in the 80s. The Clash rocks my casbah. And then there was Punk. Post-collonial literature. My father’s Beatles Anthologies are super fantastiche. Martin Amis is a Skinhead. My BM teacher is a bitter but empowered feminist. I aaaaam an anti-christ-ah! The Smiths? Stop me, oh stop me, stop me if you heard this one before. CD: Back to Black. Singing along to Amy Winehouse at full volume. Hanif Kureishi.The Mother. The Buddha of Suburbia.
And then, but then. Social withdrawal is a catharsis of the mind. Social gatherings of drinking Milo Ais, which in truth actually unmentionables and chocolate cement in disguise is a catharsis of the bowel.
Crying to Bloc Party. My best friend Azlan listens to Ono, I listen to McCartney. Simone de Beauvoir, I love you. Why the fuck are there Neo-Nazi Malaysian skinheads? Ex-rockstar, Blur bassist now owns a farm, makes cheese and writes article for The Independent. Thanks to Mark Ronson, I now listen to Hip Hop. Jai guru deva om. I need to buy a turntable for my dad’s old vinyl. Nihilist punks make interesting friends. Apparently my father doesn’t listen to The Sex Pistols. Sarkozy, hah! Royale, woah! Calling random people on the phone for random conversations. Crying at the dinner table not knowing what to do with life. Yoshitomo Nara. Tracey Emin then back to Damien Hirst. New movie This Is England on top of my wanted DVDs. Philip Larkin. Annus Mirabilis. A thousand more marriages, lasting a little while longer.
Emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness
And cleanliness is godliness, and god is empty just like me
Zero – Smashing Pumpkins
Come, come. Come and cleanse my chi.