On Friday night, as I foolishly attempted to walk the six miles home before getting as far as McDonald's, stuffing my face and subsequently getting a taxi, I got to thinking about the point of life. This sometimes happens. It usually happens after I've been drinking. Sometimes it happens when I'm sad. Sometimes one drives the other and I find myself in dark places. It really doesn't get any darker - or more depressing - than West Street at 1am.
I carried on thinking about this as Mohamed, an Uber-driver who tried valiantly to conjure up small talk whilst watching viral videos on WhatsApp and swinging his taxi from left to right, took me home.
Brian Cox tells me that life is a happy (debate.) accident, the result of something going POP! and some other things rubbing together (oo err). A happy accident that resulted in life, love, cats, hatred, and, worst of all, Oasis. Either that or we're just a possibility, a thing that couldn't not happen in this infinite universe that we call, well, the Universe.
Anyway, on this particular night, I got drunk with some people that I work with in the name of me leaving. Someone said the word "celebration," which, I'll be honest, stung. My imminent absence was apparently enough, but generous soul that I am, I also gave these people an excuse to drink. Not that this particular group of people need an excuse to drink, mind you.
Earlier, when I said "some people", I really meant to say "some people that I love." Barring a couple of very notable exceptions, everyone important to me turned up. These are people that I not only love working with, but love being friends with. Not seeing them almost daily is a big change and in two weeks time, I'll be starting all over again with a new group of people. It's a source of anxiety. Luckily, excitement too.
You're as confused reading this as I am typing it. What the shuddering fuck is he talking about? Not to worry, this post is like trying to figure out your sexuality - you know what you like, thank you very much, but then you see Ryan Gosling and you're hot and you're sweating and suddenly you're not so sure of yourself. Eventually, you learn to smother your feelings and forget all about it.
Quite a diversion. Back to the point of life. It's this. It's the connections that we make, and the stories that we can repeat infinitely until we finally die in an attempt to seem fun and interesting. For everyone who came, bought me drinks, let me talk at them, said goodbye, listened to my bad advice, thank you. I will miss you.