Secretly, I celebrated myself as a true connoisseur of many fine things. What fine things exactly I wasn’t sure because I had never gone into it that deeply, but I was a connoisseur of fine things all the same. ‘Fine things, fine things’, I say to myself, ‘how very fine it is for fine things to be fine…’

I was raving out of my head you see, which is the usual issue – I think I’m doing fine but in reality I am being carried away. I got carried away by all the pomp and circumstance of it all, feeling that I was probably famous. Feeling that in all probability this was the most likely reason for what I was experiencing. Whether being famous is an extremely good thing or an extremely bad thing is another matter, of course. That is another matter entirely.

I like to think that I know what I’m doing, that I have some sort of handle on things. I pride myself upon this particular point, in fact. That is the secret source of my ‘street kudos’. It’s all a terrible lie however, it’s all a terrible abominable fiction that I insist upon holding onto. It’s frighteningly hollow fiction that I am nevertheless determined will save me, if only I can hold onto it tightly enough, and fearfully enough. That’s my own stubbornness turning against me, you see. 

You can’t blame me for inadvertently opting for this particular type of situation, I guess. Anyone would have done the same as me under these circumstances, I’ll warrant. Anyone like me would, at any rate. I can testify to that. I think I’m on solid enough ground when I say that. I knew better of course, I can’t say that I didn’t. I knew better but I went ahead with the horrific charade all the same. I jumped on board even though I knew I was doing a colossally stupid thing!

It’s incredible, isn’t it? It’s frankly unbelievable. To see myself doing the same thing over and over and over again, apparently eternally, is demoralising, to say the least. There’s no sense in me judging myself though – I think you’ll agree with me on that one. There’s no sense in me beating myself up. Where’s the advantage in that? How can that help anyone? Not that I seem to be able to walk away from the mess either, much as I would like to. ‘Step away from the mess, please,’ I tell myself officiously. ‘Step away from the mess. There’s nothing to see here.’

No, there’s no sense in that. No sense at all. I had simply allowed myself to get carried away, that’s all. It could have happened to anyone. I knew I was making a very big mistake, but I went ahead with it anyway. I jumped aboard regardless like a fool – at least everyone else had the excuse of ignorance! And what a great excuse this is – what a truly excellent excuse! An excuse for all seasons, I call it. A handy all-purpose, all-rounder. An excuse that has it all covered.

‘They know not what they do’, isn’t that what Jesus said? They are deluded, spinning around blindly in space, neither knowing what they are doing nor why, and yet convincing themselves of the validity of their narratives all the same. Their poor, tattered narratives. If that’s not ignorance then please tell me what is! There’s enough ignorance there for anyone, enough ignorance to throw a very long and very noisy party. And what a party that would be, right? I’m coming out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.

We’re going to throw a private party for you. It’s going to be a private party in your head. It’s going to be a private party just for you – no gate crashers will be tolerated. You’ll party till you drop, don’t you worry! You’ll party night and day. You’ll party until you don’t have the strength to party anymore but even then the party will continue. It’s got a life of its own, you see. The party will seize you by your limp and unresponsive limbs and it will make you do the dance. The party will make you hop and skip and jump; it will dance your limbs for you and you’ll stagger around like the living dead. You’ll dance its special dance, but you won’t like it. You’ll join in because you have to but you won’t be having any fun…