My buyer has pulled out. My house is no longer sold, and the Sold sign has been replaced by a For Sale sign again. The excited tension has been replaced by tense foreboding of doom, which is a surprisingly similar sensation. According to my estate agent, this is the latest he has ever known a buyer pull out. At last, a record of my very own. And I'm a shoo-in for most teeth grinding ever without the aid of amphetamines.
Meanwhile, Anne Widdecombe has said she won't do Have I Got News For You again, because of Jimmy Carr's potty mouth. What was that Oscar Wilde quote? Something about the unspeakable in pursuit of the inedible? Something in the soul wilts at the prospect of being forced to side with either of them.
Carr is in many ways my guilty secret. I shouldn't be amused, but sometimes I am. He ain't never gonna make Humanitarian of the Year though.
What with one thing and another, everything has been shit since England lost to Croatia. I just dread Christmas, and the fresh horrors it inevitably brings. Already town has become a hyperreal pantomime of the grotesque. If I drew a Venn Diagram of town, it would read David Lynch ╚╝ Mike Leigh ╔╗ both their creativity. But at least humanity is going to Mars.
They've even got a date. It's February. February 2031. That's not very soon. As I'm sure you can see, it's really not soon enough. I just hope there's a live feed in the nursing home, or they'll have a hard time getting me to eat my mush, that's all I can say. Mmm, mush.
It sounds like a good plan though. They're going to send supplies and a habitat in advance, and grow their own fruit and veg on the way. Someone's been reading their Kim Stanley Robinson. Apparently they're going to practice on the Moon. Which, as we've previously established, isn't halfway. Not even nearly.
At least now I'm not moving I'll still have time for all of you. Don't expect upbeat for a while though.
http://lonelocust.com
30/11/07 @ 03:36