Silly still

It is silly though, isn’t it. I mean, if it wasn’t so fucking devastatingly sad for so many people it would be hilarious. It’s very silly, but it’s not at all funny, though some would laugh at anything. 

On Netflix at the moment there’s a programme that talks for hours about a man who took pleasure filming himself torturing and killing kittens and posting it online. I’m indifferent to kittens in truth but the cruelty is something else. What is worse, though: this individual that clearly is in need of help, or the millions who will watch it and be secretly frustrated at the lack of detail? What is it, this world that we live in, if this is entertainment?

I support my local team and I detest the other local team and all its supporters when they identify as such, even though I am related to some of them and work with a few. It makes me one like all the rest I’ve railed against, I guess and I despair at that idea, though its depth was tested the other week and the results surprised me. 

The two local teams of my city were playing against each other. Local derby. Full stadium, lots of banter, lots of cursing, lots of police. On the other team is a player that we all hate. He’s a good player and he supports the team that he plays for and this makes it worse. He’s good at winding up the crowd and the opposition players. He’s an arsehole. So when one of the supporters from my end ran onto the pitch and swung a fist at him, knocking him to the ground, I waited eagerly to see what my reaction would be. 

I hate the player and I hate his team and all of the supporters. I hate the combination of colours that they wear and the sound of their name. I was brought up hating it all and I will die hating it. It is one of the rare creeds that I have taken on board. But I hate wankers like that idiot who ran on the pitch more than I hate any of that.

They’re human and I don’t really hate them at all, I just disagree with them and am upset they’re enjoying more success than my team. I don’t hate people who are earnest because what kind of a world would that be if we all lived split like that? The idiot on the pitch crossed the white line and he changed things for me. In a way I thank him for helping me to see things better. 

I would rather write stories about all of this because that way I can shape the memory of the bad things; I can mould the ideas and be the god of them as I create worlds. It will probably be shit for a while but I’ll work at it, like any other craft, and I’ll get better. 

We’ve got this amazing ability to think and to know that we exist in ways that no other living thing on the planet (that we’re aware of) does. It’s silly to waste it.   

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