So the fitba’s on and so I watch. Everyone does and so everyone is a part of it. And so I watch.
And it might look like I’m into it but I’m a world away, a sea of my own confusion, cast adrift. The screen keeps me bobbing, missing the moments as they sail away. Bright colours purport meaning, an investment with a purpose. But where is the connection here. With myself and with others. It’s not even one of the big games, if that has to mean anything. It’s on because it’s on and so it stays on. It’s the thing you accept as present, nipping into your head, representing all life’s aggressive futilities. The intolerable that you tolerate. Violent and benign.
Oh, Ashley Young, he’s got chunkier, remember when he was a lad, just starting out, now leading the boys, just doing his own thing, nice one Ashley. And United have a new sponsor, Chrevrolet and Adidas, remember when it was Nike. I always wanted a pair of Nike Airs. To have them felt important. Always elusive. I cried when I only got Pumas. A failing that embodied me.
But that is how the conquering of the mind’s problems and riddles are made.
The tangible idea of ‘not enough’ becomes a thing and the subsequent void can then be pummelled. Pummelled with ideas to soothe, a soothing in itself that can be owned. Life’s battles, squared up as something manageable, the intricacies of six billion people, boiled down to my wants. Justifying an idea of awareness but justified that there are things that I must have to settle me first. I want this, I want that but it’s more a need so I’ll get to it after that, that changing of the world shite. And then folk start believing that it is the consuming of things that is where the changing of things is achieved.
Two lads from America, youthful pranksters have a dream. Want Asian representation in marketing. Mcmcmarketing. Mcdonalds marketing. They want posters for them. So they charge for battle and that is when the Asian voice in America is heard by the world. When they go for something that will bring them parity. Because they are excluded from the promotion of the buying of things.
And they’re such willing consumers!
And the world rises to laud them. And progressives applaud them. Mac mac Big pat on the back. And people buy into the acceptability of consumerist change when the issues cry for substance.
When the poor of the world go to bed, they can go to sleep with a smile,
there’s photos of Asian folk eating fries in America . There’s photos of American folk eating fries in America. And the people rejoiced. And joy comes for the worker in a US slave system. Their individualised struggle just theirs and theirs to tackle alone. But every so often they get the breaks, the recognition. ‘Thank you for breaking the rules’ Mcdonalds said. ‘Challenge us in ways that make money and you’ll get on tv. But don’t ask a brother or a sister for change, ask Uncle Ronald and get back to work. There’s photos of kids eating chips to raise high. The world must keep on spinning. But only if you work to buy.’
And as The Crazy World of Arthur Brown’s ‘Fire’ comes to an end over the bar, I realise I’ve ran away with myself in a stream of consciousness.
The front room just cried.
‘He’s off! He’s got to be off.’
‘Yass!!!! Fucking Wanker!’
And with that, I paid for my beer and left.