Post-Sexual.


Walking through Birmingham yesterday and today, and I'd forgotten how much it had changed since I last lived there seven years ago. It's an alien landscape to me now. Walking past the church, I remembered the scraggy old Bull Ring, the markets I used to visit dripping with rain, everything. And it's all changed : Yosemite's been changed into a golf course. That used to be a Mark One, there used to be this there, there used to be an alley over here, all of these things, and how strange it is that it's been flattened, destroyed. I like what they've done to it now, it's an immeasurable improvement. But I remembered where everything was, how different everything now is, how what is now a Selfridges used to be a pub on stilts. It was an OK pub, but always crowded, and played too much Blur for my liking.

Maybe I spend too much time with people, but generally, I don't like most people. Most people can be dicks. The hooded chav at the bus stop yesterday : "Gotta fag mate?" he asked. My brain was thinking No, I'm not you're 'mate', and no I haven't. Bog Off. My mouth was considerably more polite. That twat had a fag anyway. He was smoking upstairs on the bus like the dumb scrote he was. I swear, if they eliminated all the chavs nobody would miss them.

The people who listen to their phones tinny, shitty MP3 of rave anthems and piss off everyone in their vicinity. Sometimes I want to turn my headphone out, clamp them on the ears of people listening to their shitty MP3 rave on phones, turn it up to eleven, and play them a bit of Slipknot.

Rude wankers in the KFC or the McDonalds. "I want that fresh", they say, as people are making the food right in front of their very eyes. "I want it hot", they say, as they can see it cooking. Haven't they got eyes? Just shut up and let the people work. I'm not rude to people who cook my food. I don't bug people. I know what I want, I order it, I say my pleases and my thank yous and I'm not a troublesome customer. Well, not unless you're rude to me.

I was wearing a t-shirt with ALL ROCK'N'ROLL IS HOMOSEXUAL on it. I got some funny looks.

In the meantime, today on the train I read "after my breakup, a jittery new life" which was an article by Nirpal Dhaliwal in the Evening Standard, though to call it an article is an insult, as it's nothing more than a tedious piece of sub-blogging set in newsprint. Why they pay this guy when people like Swiss Toni aren't published I don't know. The upshot of it is he's getting divorced, and his explanation for this was "(yes, I had an affair, again)". What a prat. I hope he spends the rest of his life wanking into a bowl and crying, but I suspect he's not got the self-awareness - or, more correctly - has too much self-obliviousness to actually know what kind of sad joke of a man he is. Keep your willy in your pants and try not to ruin your life. He makes his serial dicking around sound so... boring and tedious.

What kind of woman can't help but fall for him? Surely they know they are being played like a old glockenspiel? A simple prop, to occupy my mind.

People who chase naked women as if they are some elixir bore me. The world is full of naked women. You get to a certain age, and you start to feel post-sexual. That is, beyond sex, that there are numerous things far more interesting than sex and women and men and chasing another notch on the bedpost. Seen it all before. Every combination, every connection. I'd rather know a true friend than waste time with sexual sport. Doesn't it get boring? The endless quest for another woman? Another man? I'm beyond that. There's so much more to life.

I do fancy a shag, mind you. Who said romance was dead?
- posted by Mark @ 10:16 pm