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Sunday, 23 April 2017

Regenerate Me

Regenerate Me

A Bloggage
Alexander Gordon Jahans

I am not well and I have not been well for some time. It has been affecting my writing, my interactions with other people. I feel as if I have fallen into a vast abyss and I am trying hard to cling onto sanity and survival but each day my strength wanes and I slip a little further into the black...

Nihilism is not the word but it’ll do. Just at the moment I fear that if death were easy then I would gladly die. This bleakness has killed my creativity and my confidence. There are greater problems adding to my woes. My body feels like it is falling apart and I am reminded of the epidemic of people dying from sadness in World War Z though that’s probably just poetic paranoia.

The annoying thing about me, I find, is that when it comes right down to it, I’d rather live. So I’ll survive. I’ll bitch and I’ll moan and I may face poverty and ill health as I long for the sweet mercy of death but I’ll persevere until my body gives out its last. Even then I’m not prepared to take bets on the after life. It would be just my luck if there were a hell after all.

“Grrreeetings!” will crow the devil as he presents the crucifix spit. “Time to pay your dues for that fanfic you wrote.”

I’d probably be more annoyed that there’s an after life to be honest.

Look, black comedy jokes aside, I didn’t write this to deliver yet another abortive soliloquy on my woes. The person I am is changing under this new pressure. The time of politics and rage is over. I need to adapt to survive. Become something new.  Shed the misery and be reborn with the passion and glee of old. I’ve been reading again and I never did get round to finishing the Doctor Who Virgin New Adventures.

More than that though I’ve been watching Men Behaving Badly and god help me I still love it. British comedy is amazing. I mean, it just is. I love it. Don’t get me wrong, some early episodes are clearly quite rapey or play spousal abuse off for laughter but problematic as it is, it’s fictional and makes me laugh.

In an age where my country looks set to vote in an incompetant nazi because the other guy seems a bit of a tit, I feel like British comedy could straight up include flaying and I’d be more than happy to continue watching. Problematic fiction is infinitely better than terrifying reality.

And yes, lets talk about that shall we?

I remember, before I had my testosterone, I used to pour scorn on all these men who objectified women. I called them neanderthals. Now I can literally be reading a book on politics and for some reason the image of a lady undressing will enter my brain and I’ll veer off down a rabbit hole imaging an entire narrative as to why she’s undressing. It is shallow, misogynist and oh so completely satisfying.

The Male Gaze is no longer some theoretical filmic critical device. Instead it is a very real and unavoidable factor of my biology. It’s like the terminator, only instead of scanning for Sarah Connor my brain is instantly subcatagorizing men and women into hot or not and if they’re hot my brain will instinctively keep focus of them.

I am a neanderthal. I am a moron. I hate and despise myself and yet I cannot deny the overwhelming pleasure this fresh immature lusting has given me. Just seeing pretty young women, listening to them or thinking about them makes me instantly happier. Which is not something to knock when you are falling into the abyss.

I am a giant incompetent autistic moron with tits and no money. I am under no illusions about my chances with anyone but, Zarquon help me, it’s nice to fantasize. I think that’s why lesbians appeal so much. They provide the fantasy without the shame of daring to imagine me or someone like me with any woman so utterly gorgeous and sweet - Zarquon, I am pathetic.

Here’s the ultimate irony of the cuckold insult. It implies that a woman would consent to being your girlfriend in the first place. Which for me feels like a massive complement. A better insult is cock. It suggests you are an appendage that only exists to create waste and seek sexual satisfaction. It also has the added benefit of not requiring you to explain the insult first.

Anyway I have a book on autistic people to read. This certainly won’t make me want to torture neurotypicals. I hope.

Anyway, keep calm and think of amazing women.

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