Thursday, 21 November 2013


But this blog post isn't one of them.

This is one of them. As is this. And this video. And this album. I could go on and on, but we'd be here all day and ain't nobody got time for dat.

A year ago tomorrow I wrote this. At the time I was mixed up and lethargic and lost. I still am, but I have spent the last twelve months attempting to figure my shit out. Or rather, learning how to be okay if I never figure my shit out. When your grand ambition in life is just to be a better man than your father, it really doesn't help that said father set the bar so fucking low. But I guess if he hadn't, then that wouldn't be the sum of my ambition, huh? Catch 22.

FUN FACT: Whenever I panic that I don't know, or more worryingly, don't care about what the fuck I am doing with my life, I think of this song and I instantly feel better. Rag on it all you want, but Mary Schmich knows something.

One of my biggest fears (aside from my father issues) is that in that moment right before I die, when I know for sure I am going to die, my last thought will be "Fuck, I wish I'd done that thing that I always said I was going to do but never did because I was a fucking coward". I think about dying a lot. I'd really like to know that I am going to die before it happens. Maybe not a long time before it happens, but I hope I get ample time to ponder shit. I want my last thoughts to be something more akin to "Fuck, I'm glad I did that thing! It sucked/was awesome but I DID IT! Fuck you life, I had a good run. I loved and was loved and MAN THAT LAST CIGARETTE TASTED GOOD!". Whatever my last thought is, it is bound to be pre-fixed with profanity. 

So, the next twelve months are about adventures and leaps of faith and being okay with being okay. Okay? Not worrying, just doing. If I fall flat on my face, that's okay, and if I get my heart broken again, that's okay, too. If I end up right back where I started, fine, but if I never find my way back home, that's fine, too. The world is full of awesome things. This blog post may not be one of them. I may not even be one of them, but I intend to have a hell of a lotta fun discovering more of them. I'll worry about my alcohol dependency issues next year, or the year after... or when the world runs out of cider.

Well, that's enough existential bullshit for one day. There are far greater things I should be concerning myself with right now. Like what shall I have for lunch? And who is going to win on Saturday night; Froch or Groves? And seeing Gogol Bordello next month. And how about that Red City Radio album? Fuuuck. Life ain't so bad.



  1. Cheers to this. I'm actually in the midst of writing a post about how I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, so you're not alone. Life life liiiiiiife. And damn it, cheers to falling flat on your face, too. That's the only way to improve and grow and get shit done. Sometimes it sucks, but at the same time it's comforting knowing that those that have gone before you that you admire usually got their face full of dirt at some point as well.

  2. Hell fucking yes. I think about death more than I think is normal sometimes, haha. But man, is it good for a healthy perspective on, well, anything. If I'm lucky enough to grow up to be an old lady, I want to be the most badass old lady living without regrets. I'd raise a glass and say cheers, but I'm hungover from last night, so...

  3. I think about dying a lot, but mostly I think about how it sucks when people I love/care about/wish I knew better die and I haven't said a word about how wonderful they are and then I worry that they don't know. I think that will be my last thought: I should've told them I cared.

    For what it's worth, I think you're pretty damn cool. And sometimes, the world can be too. x

  4. Love you the most, Mr Appleby. Living, hooray!!