Stare Into Space

Goose-stepping, twelve-stepping…*

Posted on | February 12, 2009 | 8 Comments

“My name is Gerry, and…”

“Hiiiiiiiii, Gerry.”

“Errrm, yeah, hi… Right, My name is… Oh right, done that.  I have a problem.”

“That’s the first step, Gerry.  Now all you need to do is to accept that you’re merely a helpless puppet in the palsied, control-freak hands of a higher power and you’re well on the way.”

“Wooooah, woah.  Higher power?  I’m pretty high on the atheistic scale.”

“That’s ok.  We just want you to turn your will and your life over to the care of god as you understand Him.”

“As I understand him?  But I understand him to be a wholly imaginary construct, only valid in the ignorant infancy of our species and utterly superfluous to any reasonable, rational and non-stupid civilisation in an age where science and, lets face it, common-sense prevails.”

“What?  But… That’s not the way to wellness.”

“Huh”

“Well, can’t you just pretend – like all the losers forced to come here by the courts.”

“Arse. “

“But the steps?”

“Arse to the steps.  Arse, I say.”

While I may be on my fifth pint as I write this, I’m relatively certain that I don’t have any sort of serious alcohol problem.  I can stop any time I want, honest.  I do, however, seem to have developed a weird addiction for Twitter.  I’ve been ‘tweeting’ for a while now and I realise that I’ve been neglecting this blog for ‘The Twitter‘.

Sad?  Probably.  Truth is, I am relishing the ‘micro’-blogging that Twitter allows.  And, oddly enough, the last couple of months have seen a spate of celebrity Twitter incursions. Twitter has hit the mainstream.  Perhaps that’s reason enough for those of you reading this not to bother with it.  If, however, that hasn’t deterred you, do feel free to ‘follow’ me – Gerry Hayes on Twitter

I know it’s sad.  I have no defence for that.

.

*A prize (well, more kudos really) to the first one that recognises the reference.

Comments

Gerry Hayes

Gerry Hayes

I mostly sit around all day and drink tea. Occasionally, I write stuff and send it to strangers so they can humiliate me and deride my efforts. Other than the self-harm to dull the shame of failure, it's not a bad life. Like I say, there's tea.

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