See you on Tuesday, God……

I admit, I was having a bit of a bad day people-wise.

First up, there I am, out in the Valentine’s day sun, tidying the yard when my neighbour, the ( not ) affectionately named Psycho Steve pulls up, in what we used to call a Spaz Chariot when I was a kid and starts blahing on his usual shit. “The government are after me” he says, for what must be the 90,000 time in the last year. “I can kill people with my mind y’know!” he says rather confidently, “I know secrets no one else knows”. Unfortunately for PS ( that’s as in P.S. could you possibly fuck of? ) I really didn’t want to hear about how the aliens were coming to get him or how his Father was a member of the Secret brotherhood of Twat. 

“Gosh” I says to PS, “you must be on the secret service’s hit list by now?”, “Nah” he says, “they can’t kill me, cos then they’d have to kill all the people that I told the secrets to when I was in prison”. How charming! As is usual, at this point, I begin to treat him like a child, agree that the Royal family are all lizards, and excuse myself by telling him I urgently need to worm my goat. But he simply wouldn’t stop droning on: I tried to switch off, but I could still hear occasional words like Remote viewing/Greys/Brotherhood of Twat etc emanating from his gob hole. I’d had enough.

“Steve”, I says, “you’re a paranoid schizophrenic. Sorry mate, get some help will ya?”. These words threw him into the type of rage I’d not seen him in since the last time I told him to fuck off, and he sped away on his chariot, maniacally muttering “Paranoid schizophrenic am I? We’ll see, we’ll see!”

Later, having recovered from PS’s onslaught and enjoyed pottering around in the garden for an hour, I decided to go in and prepare the weekend’s fare. I cook a purée: this is the base for a traditional Sylhet curry, just like those lovely curries we ate in Indian restaurants back in the 70’s. I’m diligently chopping the onions when a text comes through. Oh great, it’s from my most psychotic ex, how thoughtful of her on Valentine’s day. Can things get any better?

“How are you?” she says “I’m fine” I answer, “how are you?” At this point, I realise that I have invited all sorts of demons and beasts in to my house by responding, but hey, I can take it. Many moons ago I survived 18 months of physical and mental abuse from her, one little texty-wexty won’t hurt, will it?

As expected A) Her life is shit B) She’s not been well and C) No one wants to help her ( sell on eBay ). I venture to suggest that perhaps as she’s rather impatient, ( that’s a bit like saying ISIS aren’t terribly nice chaps ) people are less than enthusiastic to help. Well that must’ve hit the button. Suddenly the phone rings and it’s the Mad One. All I can hear is a high pitched screech, which keeps breaking up thankfully as she lives in a caravan and the signal is poor. I listen for a few seconds, imagining that this is what an encounter with a wailing banshee must be like ( except less fun of course ) then I put the phone down and send her a text: “go to the library and watch some eBay tutorials on Youtube. That’s how I learnt. Happy Valentine’s day x”. Only one kiss mind, I don’t want her to get any more excited than she already is. No point in getting older if you don’t get wiser ay?

So after all this trauma, with the purée cooked, I’ll read another chapter in my book about spiritual awareness. Except, I have yet another problem. The bit where it says all minds are one. I’m going to have to dispute that. I mean c’mon, clearly I’ve encountered two people today whose minds are absolutely not one with mine at all. Thankfully! So how could my mind be one with theirs? It’s simply not feasible, nor desirable.

And then the book goes on to say Maya ( the Sanskrit word for pretence ) has prevented us from reaching Nirvana. I mean, who invented this bloody Maya then? I mean, was it God or what? He wasn’t being terribly thoughtful if it was. “I know” God cackles, “I’ll fuck these humans right up, I’ll invent Maya!” Thanks a fucking bunch mate. If I don’t get to Nirvana I’m going to personally hold God responsible, the wicked bastard…….



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