aztec calendar – mick farren

And it came to pass that I got my goddamn mojo back and there was great jubilation and wild rejoicing – on the inside of my head if nowhere else. Last Monday, I finally had the stamina to sit down and nuke ‘Ladies and gentleman’. It took me two full days, but that’s it finished now. And, I actually managed to post something in here, which hasn’t been physically – or mentally – possible since December.

Then, I read through the next novel that’ll be coming out. It needs work, sure (and lots of it!) but I was amazed how many great wee bits there were in it. I’m looking forward to living and breathing the damn thing – maybe in March – and having it out in August. That’s the plan, anyhoo.

I feel like I’m coming out of a long, enforced low-budget suspended animation. Why is it, that it takes bouts of sickness to remind me that my health is so important? Having spent a couple of months, flat on my back, unable to function, every day feels like an Aladdin’s cave of possibilities.

And it’s not just me – I saw on twitter last night that Greece has voted in an anti-austerity party – by a landslide. David Cameron’s unimpressed – tweeting about how austerity’s actually a damn good thing – which it probably is when you’re married to some sort of millionaire.

I feel great – and it feels like the whole world’s waking up with me!

It’s only about three months until our own general election. I’m hoping the Greek result is a shot in the arm for, not just the anti-austerity movement globally, but whatever section of the UK’s populace are wondering whether being piss-poor and blaming immigrants will somehow stop bankers throwing their cocaine-fueled orgies at our expense.

And of course, I was cheered to hear I’d outlived the ugliest bastard in the history of British home secretaries, Leon Brittan. Interviewed last summer over a 1967 date rape and furiously trying to cover up his part in the ‘loss’ of MP Geoffrey Dickens’ 1983 dossier on the British establishment’s abuse elite.

It’s got to be a bit rough, waiting to die, knowing that if the disease doesn’t get a move on, justice will finally catch up with you. But then, this guy was home secretary under Thatcher right through the miners’ strike.

From my perspective, it feels like we’ve been living through Sade’s ‘One hundred-and-twenty days of Sodom’ since 2010. A world where the wealthy, powerful and/or prominent have had a get-out-of-jail-free card, a tacit understanding that the lives of children in care weigh less than an MP or light entertainer emptying their bag.

So I’m feeling hopeful. Hopeful that we’ve got the bottle to gnaw through these straps and take back what’s rightfully ours. And the world’s looking like a much better place already.

Soon come.


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