Friday 19 April 2013

Karlheinz Stockhausen

My shitty job sacked me so I'm moving to Nantwich. Their reasoning was apparently my "not being suited to customer service roles." Laughable; it's almost like saying, "due to your being so feral we've decided you should leave this place and return to your hole." I think the actual reason was that I don't smoke (thereby losing valuable fag break gossip points) and my boobs are too small. Or that I just didn't fit in. I probably should have left Sheffield sooner. The stranglehold of the welfare state has been slowly but surely suffocating my oxygen supply for three years now. It feels frightening to be a newly fledged non-doler. It will be refreshing if people stop looking at me in that way. No need to make a song and dance I suppose. Will have to nip back for gig needs. Maybe once or twice a year. Did consider possibility of canal boat. I had a dream about folk on the boat. It was a pleasant dream until more experienced and worldly friend pointed out that I'd want £20,000 for something remotely more than floating shoebox. She reckons caravans are the way forward. She probably right. Part of me still wants to grab Sheffield full throttle and embrace it in the heart of my averagely endowed bosom, part of it is paralysed by doubt. Perhaps if I was more well endowed in the bosom department it wouldn't be so much of an issue. I understand the half baked sentiment though. I feel the same. I should go somewhere where the embrace is less half hearted. I may become perhaps the second or third busker of Nantwich. I may also make some less shoddy business cards for some lessons to small people. However, this thought terrifies me. I have no idea why I should be scared of children. No doubt an older person would say that it is because I am still like a child. Perhaps. I think condition definitely worsened when I volunteered in a Primary School and someone asked, "Are you a psychologist?" To which a witty nine year-old replied, "No she's a psycho." That summed it up really. I was like the hanger on at a kids party. Even the saddos didn't want to talk to me.