co-co

I am knackered. Physically, mentally and whatever else goes on inside a human body to drag down the spirit and soul.

Nobody here's done me in or anything. Friends and family are fine. Jayne's brill and the kids are co-co.

I think that I think too much and for the first time in many years am acutely aware of what a huge mess the world is, yet I sit here, do bugger all about it except moan.

The reason I started the blog again was to work things out of my system without it becoming a diary. I read back through the blog and realise what a pompous knob I could be at times. I still am I suppose, but there's a time and a place and it's not on the Interweb anymore if I can help it.

My grammar and word-appropiate sentence structure used to be quite good. But I had an increasing tendency to waffle shite. Like I'm doing now.

Maybe this is my mid-life crisis? Adolescence was awful, how I got through that without too many mistakes was a miracle. At 43, I'm becoming slightly aware of my mortality and realise I've used much of the previous 42 years keeping my head down.

Rock still gets me. It will save the world. On saying that, I saw The Who last year and was utterly demoralised by their attitude. In a way, I couldn't blame them - Roger was 69 and Pete was 68. What have they got left to prove? The big screen behind the stage with the words "ROCK ON LIVERPOOL" left me in a state of melancholy I don't think I've experienced before or since. The Who are / were an ideal, this paragon of virtue, treating me like a cheap consumer.

I got over it, and appreciate their 60s / 70s excess is a gift we don't deserve. It's ours forever. I will take it to my grave.