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Monday, 19 December 2011

Going Postal
A man with big sacks
Just as I do every frigging year, I'm currently performing an internal debate over sending Crimbo cards. It's a bastard. I love my friends and family and want 'em to know it but I hate writing out festive cards. Last year I had a legitimate excuse for not doing it - even breakdowns have silver linings - but what about this year? 
Well, I've learned several things from spending the last 18 months rocking back n forth in a corner of the living room and chewing on a leather strap. One of them is that life's too short to be fretting over this malarchy.
Believe me, this is no reflection of how much I love my mates. It's a reflection of how well my nosebag of meds is working instead. Card writing has always made me want to shove a pen up my nose but now that my brain has been re-wired by a monumental meltdown it's even more of a dance with the demons of stationery.
The kraken festive farce will begin with me wracking my brains for the names of even my closest friends. Then I'll make and lose and make another and lose another list of recipients. By this time I'll be so confused I'll start thinking it's Easter. Then I'll get so overwhelmed at the prospect of having to write out a grand total of 30 cards that I'll need a good sob, a diazepam and an afternoon's sleep. Upon waking it'll take me an hour to find my address book and and then I'll blindly drive around in circles looking for a post office. That's all before I goggle at the friendly local post mistress and holler, "46p! For a first class stamp? Really? 46p?" Then, in my fury, I'll rip three of the little fuckers, have to buy more and will round off the entire debacle by stumbling into the street to the tune of police sirens and psych nurses wielding laden syringes.
So this is why your mantelpiece won't groan with kraken greetings this year. I am, though, happy to clog up your web browser with f-bombs instead. So please accept this new regime with many happy hugs and much love. Much fucking love, in fact. Ha, and you think I'm not festive...



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