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post-it notes from the NO FUTURE: a wannabe writer in the beta: IT'S NOT JUST A PHASE I'M GOING THRU.


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wSaturday, June 01, 2002


today brighton, tomorrow the apocalypse

woke this morning feeling cored – as if my stomach had been removed under heavy anaesthetic, the middle of me gone, cartoon hole. and some sick fuck started a small but insistent fire in the dead centre of my head. O.U.C.H. spells ouch.

‘course, some people would paraphrase the experience, say ‘i had a hangover’. not me, baby. I’m trying to connect.

hour late for work, working half-speed even then, pacing thru corridors tiny steps, as if the floor was crumbling beneath me. somehow i got ahead of schedule earlier in the week – the play’s first five scenes are BETA-ready and will be farmed out to couple trusted allies for feedback loop. so that wasn’t a consideration – instead of writing in my break as per the norm, i bought paper and read with increasing agitation the logical, rational, almost smug analysis of projected sequences of events that could, with all the inevitability of a psychotic, lead to war, escalation of war, 'limited' nuclear destruction.

now, don’t get me wrong – i really don’t genuinely believe this is going to happen. if i’m honest the emotion i’m feeling isn’t panic but mild disquiet. but, then - it wouldn’t, would it? what point of reference could i possibly have? our generation’s never had to face a Cuban missile crisis, a real nuclear moment. but, considering the best military intelligence suggests, with nuclear proliferation outside of a limiting system (ie. the cold war) we’re in ever-increasing danger of someone, somewhere, with nothing to lose, actually doing it.

it seems unreal. it seems impossible. it could still happen.

anyway, last nite, celebrating some friends’ finals, ended up accompanying them to the pav tav – which also gave us the chance to give mia from electrelane copy of zine, ceedee. music actually ok for indie nite at first. didn’t last. fucking hate how indie has, by and large, become a retro phenomenon, a genre that hasn’t changed its hairstyle since the summer of Britpop, the characterless, boring, droning laddist bullshit, the everything. as nite went on, and all the usual suspects resurrected for the dancefloor, concentrated instead on socialising – spent a lot of time getting to know bunch of girls, friends of friends, better – then splintered off to get talking to cool couple – she indeterminate European, he Scottish – liked them a lot – hopefully hooking up for le tigre tomorrow nite.

consulted lyrics to ‘kashmir’ before. no solutions there, so far as i can see, unfortunately, though made me want to listen to song. have written most raw material for next zine, will send comic strip script up north this weekend, push driver to get with program. been listening to the yeah yeah yeahs, boredoms, coveting new el-p and dot allison albums, ‘oops’ by tweet and, embarrassingly, our own mix ceedee.


posted by kicking_k at 12:37 am




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