Demons, little monkeys, scurrying to my shoulders, “slipping, slipping” they giggle in my ear. They pinch my skin, tug at my hair.
Where’s your flo Chlo? Like a slurry of sludge, I’m sticking. Trees whisper in the wind, “promises, promises, what happened to the promises?”
No longer making, creating, just sating. But it’s a good day, a bad day, a roast day, a sad day.
Change the gear, pick up the pace. It’s not too late, gather your arsenal, lay it all out. Straighten your britches, smooth out the creases and gently, soothe the soul.
Hello 2021, you have 12 months that are yours. You own them. January to December. All yours. And there are A LOT of people expecting these 12 months to outshine the previous 12 that your counterpart 2020 appeared to completely fuck up. And let’s be honest, so far, it isn’t looking too good is it?
Trump has been getting all trumpity, C19 is mutating like a virus on speed, sandwiches are being turned away at EU borders and my cat got locked in the garden cabin resulting in a half done unicorn puzzle being shat and pissed on. One might say 2021… that you are going to seriously need to sort your shit out if we want to have anything left of the human population. As it stands, homelessness is rising exponentially, the NHS is now in need of its own oxygen mask and the Tories are killing off poorer children at lightening speed by not allowing them to eat anything other than mouldy bananas. In fact, let’s just say that the least you could do in the next 11.5 months is to incarcerate Trump and put Boris out to sea on a slowly deflating dinghy. With a webcam.
Despite this, things in my own life are pretty positive. I have a new job starting next month and I have a new boyfriend. Like a proper one. One who is funny. And creative. And kind. And doesn’t inject heroin.
Other than that, what else is there to say? The kids and I are all good. The youngest is watching inappropriate American sitcoms, the middle one has started growing a beardy moustachy sort of thing and the eldest and I bond over pinning the bearded moustachy one down and squeezing his adolescent black heads. He screams dramatically and we roar with laughter. It’s great.
Let’s be honest though folks, it is probably time we stopped trying to apportion blame to a year and instead look a little deeper inwards as to why the world is apparently going to shit. We can’t assassinate any world leaders but we can take account for our own actions that potentially directly or indirectly contribute to mass farming, jungle felling, world poverty and climate warming amongst genocide, gang warfare and child exploitation (I’ll stop there because there are too many to list). I am by no means a vegan eco warrior who fights for humanitarian causes but even I know that turning off lights, shopping in a charity shop vs Primark, avoiding palm oil or not buying battery farmed eggs are lesser evils. (Oh… and not voting in the Conservatives).
And with that… I’m going to see how long I can sit in the dark for.