We all want to be unconscious – I realise that. We are all looking for that! “Yay! Yay! Yay!” we say – “We’re unconscious!” Isn’t that it? Isn’t that what we want? We are so very hungry for it sometimes and that’s frightening. Hungry, hungry, hungry. Hungry for the nectar of forgetfulness because it tastes so good. What could possibly taste better than that? “I’ll have me some of that,” you say, eagerly reaching out with both hands. Gimme some of that good good stuff. Give me some of that good good stuff because it tastes so good. Drool is running down your chest. That’s undignified but who’s looking? That’s undignified but who cares? It’s not so good later on of course; it’s very far from being good later on but you don’t need me to tell you about that! You definitely don’t need me to tell you that! I know what that feels like – I could describe that terrain down to the finest detail! I know every atom of it. Do you know that thing where you are so very familiar with the geography of a particular territory that you can walk it with your eyes closed? You know it every inch of the way; you know it every millimetre of the way. You know the territory so well that it’s horrifying – it literally is horrifying. Horror is the only word for it. You know the territory so well that it might be you. It is you – that’s how familiar it is! It might as well be you and it is you. You yourself are the horror, in this case. You yourself are the horror and you can’t escape yourself. Of course you can’t escape yourself – how could you do that? The prison is total. We will all agree that this is a bad old territory. We will have to agree on that! I can see everyone sitting around the table nodding their heads solemnly in agreement. Solemnly nodding, solemnly nodding. So true, so true. We all know how grim that old territory is – that’s the flip-side for sure and we all know that. On the one hand we’re running down the street talking shyte as fast as our mouths can articulate it. It’s like a high-pressure hose. You’re running down the street. We all love being unconscious. We love talking shyte as fast as our mouths can come out with it. We all love it but it’s no fun when we find ourselves in the bad old territory either. You’re running through the streets shouting “Yay, yay, yay!” as loud as you can because it feels so good to be unconscious. Your friends are as excited as you are. Isn’t that what we all want? And we don’t know it but we’re on that oh-so-familiar track. Our feet are walking down it all by themselves, just as our mouths are coming out with a stream of frantic bullshit without any help from us. It is wildly exciting of course and we have all got to agree on that. It’s a blast. We can all look back on those days with stinging tears of nostalgia in our eyes. They were the days, the good good days. So good, so good. Drinking deep of the nectar! Drinking so deep, drinking so deep. There’s plenty to go around, after all. There’s plenty for everyone. We’re running down the street screaming with excitement we’re locked into the territory. We’re running down the street blurting out nonsense as fast as our mouths are able we’re in the territory. We’re running down the street we’re in the territory. We running down the street we’re in the territory. We’re screaming with excitement we’re in the territory. We’re going out with our friends we’re in the territory. The DJ’s talking about it on the radio. He’s talking about it so much! Everyone’s saying how good it is, everyone’s shouting about how great it is. We’re shouting about it so loud! Shouting so loud. It’s on the TV, it’s on the news. Shouting about it so loud. We are shouting about it because we know it’s so good, because we know it’s so great.