LUXURY PROBLEM
One day, I was in a Narcotics Anonymous meeting, feeling disconsolate, dishevelled, and deeply angry at those who'd found a way of life that didn't involve constant scoring, spottiness, and empty cupboards. But one guy really got my goat. He was going on about how he couldn't decide whether to sell his Mercedes or not, and was genuinely talking like we should give a damn. He went on for about ten minutes, making out how humble he felt these days, how he was now there for his family (the unfortunate wretches), and had accessed the magic of a god of his own choosing. I can't remember if he used the phrase 'luxury problem' - he probably didn't have the grace or intellect, but he was keen to make it clear he wasn't living in a skip anymore, gnawing on chicken bones.
I, too, have some luxury problems nowadays. In fact, some of the problems I have now I would have called solutions a year or two back. Now, for example, I try to keep my bank-account in credit, and slightly resent the £6 charge if I go over. Up until a year ago, my overdraft was constantly hovering around the £2,000 mark, and thoughts of being in credit seemed distant, difficult to achieve, and potentially dangerous, because it wasn't so long ago that I couldn't hold on to £100, let alone £1,000, without squandering it in one or two sittings. I have a nice little phone now, nothing flashy, but I can take photos and videos with it, and see it better than my old one, and it hasn't fallen into the clutches of a stranger at dawn, never to be seen again. I've been doing a bit of stand-up most weeks lately, and even though I didn't get through to the final of this competition recently (due to scoring anomalies), a year ago I wouldn't even have turned up for the gig, that's even if I'd organised it in the first place. I have a rug on the floor, a spotlight, a lovely peace lily, and a big blue wine glass, the image of which is thrown onto the wall by the spotlight, making for quite a nice feature, even if I say so myself. I find the spotlight's beam a bit narrow, but not so long ago there was no blue wine glass, no spotlight, no rug, and no peace lily adorning that corner of my cabin, which was, as it goes, just dry thin grey carpet and a CD rack. Yes, and even though I can't see to drive, I can't wait to purchase my first Mercedes, and go ram it down the throat of a captive audience in a local twelve-step fellowship.
And that is all I have to say today, bitter but grateful. But just in case you want to hear a song by me, here is one for you to click on...The World Is Full Of Whores
Maybe tomorrow?
High class problems....
ReplyDelete& if you ain't high class you'll never have them problems ;-)
year on year it gets better
Bitter & grateful.... oxymoron??
ReplyDelete