I found this scrap of a post today on an old external hard drive. Written 22nd November 2016.
On nights when I find myself tired but not quite ready to fall into sleep I have a number of little mind games to help lull me over. These vary from a winning the lottery fantasy (I never play the lottery) and how I would dispose of my fortune. I’d need at least £7,000,000 as I have a very big family. Sometimes, if I don't wish to excite myself too much I just try to remember all the 32 counties of Ireland.
Back when I was a teenager, I’d be deciding in which order I’d date the Monkees and which of them I’d eventually marry and raise children with. It was always either Davy Jones or Mickey Dolenz and I only went out with Peter Tork once and then we just held hands. You know, thinking back, I never once planned my wedding or thought about a wedding dress. It was always about what Davy and I (or Mickey and I) were going to call our huge family of mostly female children. Lord! I was so young.
Last night I found a new method of helping myself nod off. A fantasy of having Donald Trump killed.
I must have been feeling slightly better the following week when I wrote and posted this,
And what of my inner life? Well... I'm still trying to come to terms with what appears to be the new world order and the rise of the right. At least I'm not dreaming about killing that man any more. Negative energy Nelly, negative energy.
It's been a long four years.