The final stretch, baby.
I’m sitting in my apartment, gloating over the fact that this mess does not have to be dealt with until a week from now. Future self can deal with this mess. All the clothes I tried on and discarded in a heap, all the rubbish I removed from old suitcases and bags before deciding not to bring those bags either, all the tidirty clothes… again, it’s kind of security against dying. Because if I die, at least I die with chores left undone. At least my parting view of the world will be a little victorious. HA! At least I spent my last hours of life buzzing around the internet, and not doing menial slave labour. Let my loved ones clear that shit out when they come to claim my saleable belongings. Oh actually, better wash those clothes. Don’t want my sobbing mother to have to face my “read too many sexy emails in these” panties. Ok a little clean up effort won’t be too taxing.
So I just wanted to share with you before I go, in case my plane is selected for the great scrap heap in the sky, and my parting words are about my vagina. No. Awesome, but not poignant enough. Shit, I don’t have anything poignant to say.
Oh but I just remembered to receive my “you survived the flight” message from my future self. Let me explain.
When I was a child, and still had some fairly muddled ideas about cause and effect and the tenses, I came up with this technique of dealing with being afraid of flying. Obviously it’s not a very effective technique, because I’m still scared shitless, but I have to keep doing it or else it makes my fear worse. Stupid stupid child.
Anyway what I do is, I tell myself that I sent a message from the future saying I got there fine, and the flight was ok. So then I am slightly, ever so slightly comforted. Future me is like, “why waste the stress hormones? You’re fine, because I’m here to tell you this now.” So then when I do get off the plane, I have to remember to mentally send that message back to past me who was scared of the flight. So then it becomes kind of true. Because I DID send that message back in time. I got the message first and then I sent it back, and if you’ve watched any time travel movies, that’s kind of how it works. So that’s my time travelling message technique. And you can borrow it if you like. I don’t recommend it though because now I get on a plane and if I don’t “receive” the message, I start getting afraid that I didn’t get a message from the future because I didn’t land safely and future me doesn’t exist to send it back. This is just one of the facets of my mental condition pre-flight. So like the idiot who picks their own special lottery numbers to repeat each week, I can’t stop now. Oh man I’m like on of those freaks who has to salute every single magpie they see to avoid bad luck. Or is it kind of better because it’s not so much superstition as it is conviction that I can actually send messages through time?
Ok well, my bags are packed… I’m bringing a whole bunch of books, including Naked Lunch which I have been picking up and putting down in disgust at myself every so often and I hope to use to repel any old people who may be sat next to me on the plane. It’s a very strange and disturbing book but also kind of brilliant. I don’t know. I feel like I’ll know if I liked it or hated it when I’m finished. Also I have my chinese cheap as a packet of shit mp4 player loaded up with a hellufalotta films and stuff. Just hope I’m not sitting next to someone attractive, because everything I have to watch is crap and embarrassing (except ANCHORMAN. Thank you wuc for reminding me of its awesomeosity…) and I’ll just end up paranoid that my headphones aren’t good enough and romantic comedy drivvel is leaking out into the ear sockets of my hot neighbour, who will then think I’m a tool and not want to do mile high sex with me. Admittedly I am too afraid of flying to do mile high sex, it feels even more unsafe being in that bathroom, shaking around… I’m always afraid a bit of the plane will fall off and the toilet will have a hole in it and I will get sucked out ass first into the clouds and die asphyxiated… oh fuck stop thinking about the flight stop it stop it fuck fuck…
Hey MFO, it’s me, I mean you, from the future. You landed fine. It was all good. You lived. Also, you survived the car journey home too. Actually, this is far into the future and you are 80 and looking damn fine and you didn’t get cancer from smoking and you are fine, you didn’t die yet. So chin up but also don’t take too many risks, and get a new bike helmet. But you’re fine. STOP WORRYING.
Whew, thank fuck… slightly reassuring.
Ok so see you in a week or maybe sooner, but if I don’t post for two weeks…. find future 80 year old me and BEAT ME UP FOR LYING ABOUT SURVIVING THE FLIGHT. Don’t argue with circular logic, just do it. (is that circular logic? Never mind. Don’t argue in general)
Smooth ass (literally) mofo over and out