We've come too far to give up who we are
|The sun came out today and I snuck out of my own personal Room 101, but only for a moment.|
Grand Canal, Dublin, April 20th, 2013
It being such a lovely day today, possibly the first really nice day of the year, I hopped on my bike and went out for a proper cycle. According to my cycling app (yes, I use an app to measure my cycling. Why would this be surprising to any of you? Do you even know me?) I haven't been out for a proper cycle since the end of October.
That's six months ago.
I would like to think that of course I have been out for many long cycles since October, but probably haven't remembered to record them. Sadly, I think the truth is that I have been sheltering indoors away from the sheer misery that is an Irish winter for so long that I have forgotten what the outside world actually looks like. The Irish weather is the single greatest reason why we are a) all potato-shaped and b) the streets remain disappointingly protest-free.
My little jaunt today took me 1 hour 50 minutes to complete a twenty mile route, which wasn't too bad for someone who (allegedly) hasn't been out on a bike for six months.
Now, in truth, the weather and a general unwillingness to engage with the cold and the rain, and the cold rain, and the rainy cold have only partially been to blame. Just as a thunderstorm occurs when a hot front meets a cold front and they don't get along particularly well, so too has my inaction been birthed as the unstoppable force of work hits the immovable object of ill health. My life has been entrapped in a perfect storm of inertia, buffeting me from all side simultaneously and preventing me from doing anything more creative than posting the occasional snide remark on Twitter (and even then there have been tumbleweeds rolling across my timeline, tumbleweeds that somehow get more retweets than my deeply insightful and pithy remarks on the inability of our current legislators to understand the Internets).
Until then, posts might continue to be few and far between here on Booming Back. I have neither the time nor energy to vent my wrath and ire on these pages in anything that resembles a regular schedule of cynicism and bile. Instead I have been taking out my frustrations on my neighbours by playing Daft Punk on near continuous loop, and at quite a high volume. I believe I can just about hear them moan "We're up all night to get lucky" as they rock back and forth slowly, clutching their sides and praying for Great Zombie Jebus to Rapture them up out of the endless purgatory they have found themselves in.
We're up all night to get lucky...
We're up all night to get lucky...
"Do not imagine that you will save yourself, Winston, however completely you surrender to us. No one who has once gone astray is ever spared. And even if we chose to let you live out the natural term of your life, still you would never escape from us. What happens to you here is for ever. Understand that in advance. We shall crush you down to the point from which there is no coming back. Things will happen to you from which you could not recover, if you lived a thousand years. Never again will you be capable of ordinary human feeling. Everything will be dead inside you. Never again will you be capable of love, or friendship, or joy of living, or laughter, or curiosity, or courage, or integrity. You will be hollow. We shall squeeze you empty and then we shall fill you with ourselves."