Mental and Physical Toxicity

My friend talks of too much Pilsner, of vats of ‘becalmed’ French Red as a surrogate, a crutch, after the (mild) excesses of Berlin.  I feel it more acute than ever: a general desire to accomplish something but a feeling of looking through a gauze mesh at a faded to-do list.  I look at what I have to do and add up the differences it will make.  All that effort, to what end?  It speaks volumes when I make a cup of tea as a displacement activity.

They are arguing over the trains.  They are proposing a windfall tax on the rich.  An article on one rich person fails to notice there are plenty of unjustly rich people in the UK.  What do I want to do with what it is that I want?

Published by gurdeepmattu

I’m an author and publisher. I live and work in London and am the author of “Sons and Fascination” (2011, Paperbooks). It's available here:

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