Enemies of Reason Poundshop potshots at the media moral maze.

It doesn’t matter that much

As I explained in my previous post - sometimes people call them 'pieces' but that always makes me think about 'pieces of shit' so I call mine 'posts'; you may well think of it as a 'post of shit' though, if you like, and I don't mind - I am working a lot and my brain is slowly shutting down non-important functions. I learned a lovely word the other week, debridement, doesn't it sound like quite a pleasant thing? Until you find out what it actually means - oh, and don't look at the Wikipedia page for that if you're eating a spam sandwich, or any kind of sandwich, come to think of it. And that's what I think my brain needs - a bit of debridement of the stuff that's died away and is just sitting there, taking up space.

What I'm trying to say is that a lot of stuff doesn't matter that much. When I was unemployed (and I am hurtling back towards that state of being again, at a rather alarming speed) I tended to ruminate on everything I read, everything I saw, everything that was around me, every tweet, every Facebook update, every everything. It wasn't a healthy way of being, and made me rather introverted and sad. Not that that isn't my default setting, but you get the general idea: I was a whole world of that beyond the level at which I normally operate. In short, I was a twat. But what I have learned from having been a twat and now being somewhat less of a twat (in my opinion only, though your mileage may vary) is that a lot of stuff really doesn't matter. Really doesn't matter that much at all.

Things seem much more important than they really are, when you're sitting in a world surrounded by tweets and blogposts and articles and people linking to stuff disagreeing with other people disagreeing about stuff. So much disagreement, so much energy, so much anger and resentment and bitterness and pettiness. And really, when you take a step back, as I've been forced to due to lack of energy and lack of motivation, you realise, for Christ's sake, this isn't all as big and massive and important as it seemed. It's just a big soup, and I am a crouton. It's a big carton of milk, and I am a fly sucking it up, as the Thin White Duke once said. It's a big load of stuff, and I am a small piece of that stuff, among that stuff, and that's that.

And really, my opinion doesn't matter at all. I may have written some things on some subjects, but really, don't take me seriously. Please don't see every utterance from my keyboard (or especially mouth, should you ever have the displeasure to see me in person) as something that's really important to me. Look, if I'm writing something like this, I'll put some effort in; if it's a tweet, it's a splodge of ephemera, a piss off the side of a ferry; it really isn't worth combing through 140 characters and telling me where I've gone wrong. Because I might not have said what you think I've said anyway. Twitter is a clumsy, random blaster and longer blogposts are more elegant weapons.

Anyway, I just felt like saying that. Reading it back, I sound like a bit of an snippy idiot. Fuck it, say what you like to me, I don't mind. But for your own sake rather than mine, just don't take the tweets too seriously. It really doesn't matter that much.

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