Notebook 063

07-02-07 00.55

We are throwaway. Generation disposable. We want want want and are not ashamed to make desire attainable, to the best we can. Then we'll better it; more realistic, bigger, faster, better wing mirrors, shape and an extra coffee holder.

Life remodelled and re-packaged but the batteries are missing. I want to go to a university interview and have it play as follows:

"Where do you see yourself in five or ten years time?"

"Ideally, running my own bookshop in a quiet un-tainted village. 2.4 children and a wife who makes the best flapjack man has known and fucks like a lithe sixteen year old. I will see strangers come into my and buy a book. I will know that they are, in some way, learning. WIdening their eyes. I will write and publish my own material that will hopefully teach the pair of eyes that I see return. But I know this will not happen. The peaceful serene village where this happens is untainted and no village is so peaceful. No place on earth is peaceful. So hence I see myself changing the world in five years time. Ten years time. My village is a metaphor for the world and the customers are the masses."

Sly smiles. "How naive."

"Let me ask you, interviewees, if you thought that the generation... well, I presume (*points) parents right?"

"Yes." (*general agreement)

"Well even if you've contemplated thinking about thinking about thinking about having kids you've been a parent. Be it in your head, with barbie dolls or the 3.45pm school run in traffic, you've all been parents at some point. Was there never a point in your life where you looked at the generation after you but before your children and thought 'Jesus. Things have got really shit these days'? Well I'm at that point and I bet just like you, you wanted to improve the deterioration of generation so that for your kids, it wouldn't actually be so bad. So. Did you collapse at the snigger like pruple sweater here just gave me? Did you leave the thought in your head? Did you throw away the permonition of children and change with the recyclable plastic you threw on the floor at the same time?
I want to change the world. I'm sorry, but I do. I'm sorry if it's naive, brash or unrealistic or if it just intimmidates you and pisses over any sense of life accomplishment you may have. I'm not sorry that I did it and will adamently profess and piss again and again. I am only sorry that you feel the need to what... call me naive? Over ambitious? Zealous? Maybe you are actually considering the possibility that this scrawny kid in front of you has half a bag of coke and speed rampaging round his body? I only hope you question your initial reaction as well, because I want my village and my bookshop and my eager returning learned eyes. I want it because it feels and seems so right to put my life towards.
So why the fuck should I not?"

[rework to have more punch?]

I want the freedom to follow my passion. My mind. If my mind writes a story I want to type it. If my mind sees a picture, I want to make it. No agendas, minutes or boardroom mettings to put a raincheck on my creativity.
I will not be paused.