Big Trouble in Little Papier-Mâché Fortress

Looks real doesn't it, but its actually made of cardboard you idiot

Well, well, well,

I have a real treat in store for you…If you were able to read my last blog without sustaining a head injury then you’re lucky. I will attempt to make this process less ardous but hopefully a sprig of luck such as a phone call, or the demise of the entire interweb as we know it, may distract you from reading this end to end. So, the point?

In a not unusual trail of thought I was forced to consider my psychological wellbeing today and had to ask myself this question:

How did a concrete fortress reveal itself to be made out of Papier-mâché at the first sign of rain? 

Once again I’m using metaphors to hide the inarticulacy of my writing and the fact I’m saying nothing new.  Today I found my self in in a state of mild, but temporary dispondancy. This brief foray into what a friend of mine refers to as ‘falling into a brown study’ was caused by events that in themselves are alarmingly insignificant. I did not lose my job, home, family, friends, limbs,eyes, head and internet connection in a fight to the death with an anthropomorphic manifestation of Goldman Sachs. The towering behoemoth did not rail and sway several stories above me before crushing me to a bloody & matted, hairy pulp. I have also remained unaffected by environmental catastrophes like rain, drought, climate change or Jeremy Clarkson’s fat, long, podgy face. What caused the house of cards to fall, and my fortress to go soggy was the combination of two small combined factors:

1 Being ignored.

2 I am still recovering from a hangover of gargantuan proportions.

Neither of these events are entirely unusual or undeserved, but their impact is of note. The lopsided conclusion I came to was that my entire life was actually a castle made of papier-mâché and Phil Collins had just successfully incanted “ooh I wish it would rain down”.  What was once concrete became a mushy pulp. The myth of equilibrium and solidity had once more reared its ugly head. Well, I’ve resolved to ignore this person back and thereby engage in an immature self-defeating feedback loop that Adam Curtis says doesn’t exist – I’ll let you know how it goes.  More importantly, I’ve decided that nothing has actually got worse. There is no imminent psychic collapse because there is no concrete fortress. I am more like water, less like rock.

Earlier on this morning I tweeted the following points;  they are more valid than the rest of this blog but not at first glance, relevant.  Naturally, I thought I’d carelessly toss them in here with the cavalier attitude of someone that’s high on domestos, crack, glue and sherry.

Here you go…

• we dont like negative experiences

•  so we try to minimise the risk of experiencing them

•  so we try to predict the future

•  in order to do this we see patterns everywhere

•  the map is not the territory*

•  we get disappointed

*Yes, I said this in my previous post and I’ll say it again. I’ll think of a new concept to become obsessed with soon.