00.06 am Monday 30 March 2020
I saw the news last night for the first time in over a week. It has not got any better for me. I’ll stop again this week. There is far too much going on in my head that I need to deal with. TV news is one distraction I can do without at the moment. The need for knowledge of what is going on in the outside world is one thing but even the sedate BBC is beginning to sound a little ghoulish. Number counting from country to country. Number discounting where certain powers are deliberately underplaying what is really happening.
I’ve said for many years now the biggest criminals on the planet are the most wealthy. They have absolutely no shame when it comes to defending their financial interests. They have the upper hand. They control not only what governments do but what the vast majority of the media print. I even believe they they employ trolls to distribute fake news online and trash anyone who dares to question them and their statistics. They control us using the social media even down to our every day shopping. We have been so gullible these past few years. We, myself included, have wanted every toy and bauble dangled before our greedy childlike eyes. And now their world seems to have come to a halt with the globalisation of the current virus. Their businesses are suffering. Yet they with their personal fortunes and incredible wealth are the first at the trough when demanding they should be protected whilst at the same time sacking their staff.
We are living the nightmare scenario. Soon we might become the voracious zombies we have seen on our screens. The living dead turning on each other because we cannot turn on those who helped create this situation. It is easy to put the blame on Pangolins. Poor little things hunted and sold for food in the most unhygienic conditions. Yes a perfect scene, set for the world to swallow. The other option is that this virus has been perfected in a lab somewhere. Another conspiracy theory embedded into the mountain of such theories over many decades. The truth may well be out there. Somewhere. It is buried under centuries of lies. Not helped by various religious practitioners who are also in the mind control game.
And so I am left to my own devices. Living alone with only my mind to help me through this unnatural crisis. I contemplate all that I have mentioned above because when you are left in these kinds of circumstances you have to swim in uncharted waters to find a crumb of comfort that will help you come through to the other end. Perhaps none the wiser personally in my case. And into what kind of radically changed world?
I have always the prospect of my own death to look forward too. At 79 I have had a good life. At 80 will I fare any better? Is my body telling me things I do not want to look at in any detail? Do I feel the comforting hand of death lightly resting on my shoulder when it should be stroking my crotch to distract me from its nearness? I would love to chat about this and other things with my friends. To explore the possibilities and practicalities. To frighten each other over a nice plate of cheesy chips and bottle or three of Merlot. To honestly talk out our fears, our hopes and dreams for our futures. In the end to laugh uproariously, almost to the point when we test out to see if our ‘Tenna Men’ actually work under a full stream.
All dark, frightening thoughts must be built upon the bedrock of humour. AH! I hear voices caught somewhere between the concrete and plaster board of the building. I must get on with page 6 of my shaggy dog story. Not that anyone seems to have noticed it let alone read it. I think it might be more for my mental health than anything else. I have now laid out the basic premise of the story. It is up to me to allow it to take off in which ever direction it wants to go. I love this story. I have no idea where it is heading or what will happen along the way.
This might well be the kind of excitement which keeps me going.
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