I had a notion today that metaphorically articulates loneliness. I owe a friend some cash after a weekend away and he’s not sure how much so I said that unless he gives me a figure I’ll create a wheel of fortune, give it a spin and he’ll have whatever the wheel dictates. This could be one of the figures dotted around the board or special prize like a new cat or a facelick every day for a month (that would be special). I then thought, if I were really bored and lonely, I would probably do this anyway. I’d quite like to have a wheel of fortune for when the friends that are too tired and caught up in shit box-sets decide to make their annual visit.
I’d use my tools I have, that over the years seem to be accumulating. This collection started out of necessity as when I first bought a house, I’d buy cheap power tools, have a go, do a half decent job following a few Tourette’s moments and feel happy for not having paid a professional. As the shit tools broke, I began to replace with better quality stuff. This is just another example of the descent into suburban mediocrity; all these little things add up to being the dad-like figure you vowed you’d never be when you were in your 20’s (fuck I sound depressing sometimes). So, in a disappointingly sensible and functional way, I now have an array of tools to make stuff with. Add in the DIY experiences and shit home-make-over documentaries that plagued us 10 years ago that I watched because I was too knackered to do anything else, and I’m good to go.
In such lonely circumstance, the cat be the hostess and suitably dressed as Jenny Powell, I would be host and would also play the part of Dave (my mate) as I spin the wheel. I imagine he would probably get a few booby prizes of ‘Help Dave become King of the Isle of Wight’ and ‘A new spider every month’. I think the latter would be harder to deliver than I think and the takeover of the Isle of Wight is worth a bash. Who would stop us? My biggest concern though is that in this dire lonely state would be that the cat would begin to look attractive as Jenny. I wonder if this how all bestiality begins? I also wonder what other shit loneliness could drive us to do?
The frustrations of an overthinker 