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AA October 20, 2009

Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
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I’d go to Alcoholics Anonymous but I don’t like my name enough.

I have three default occupations: working, drinking and nothing. Which normally might not matter – lots of us bumble along thinking no further ahead than making it to the end of the cup of coffee we’ve got on the go (though I’m rarely that ambitious) – but the difficulty and futility of the nothing occupation magnifies itself exponentially when I have periods of solitude and independent living.

My beloved is sojourning in the former Soviet Union – this just in from Crimea. Gents hotter in Ukraine. In Russia, everyone looks a bit gay – and I am left to ponder the present alone.

And in a bout of not boozing or working, of nothinging, in other words, I got to worrying about a future. All brought on by marzipan, of course.

Darlings, you know that fear I’m sure we all get where there is some freakish disaster and, wouldn’t you just know it, you’re the only person to survive it and then, wouldn’t you just know it again, human beings go and replicate themselves almost immediately and arrive on the planet that had briefly only been populated by you at exactly the same distance along the evolutionary ladder and – would you credit it! – speaking English but without knowledge of the past and these arriviste new folk somehow realise you’re the only survivor from the old days and therefore think you are the very embodiment of omniscience, Wikipedia made man, and you have to impart history’s secrets and teach them how to farm and form societies and invent the wheel and the spinning jenny and the internal combustion engine and aeroplanes and the internet and space travel and France and Christmas, well I just wouldn’t have a clue how to do any of it. I’d have to just go and hide in a cave, hoping the freakish disaster which had left me all alone in the first place hadn’t made the planet perfectly even and free of hiding places, and hope the new re-humans were too thick to come and find me.

Because I wouldn’t even be able to tell them how to make marzipan.

I consoled myself that I could justify my ignorance by comparing myself to all those unlucky solo-survivors of freakish disasters of previous generations who would have had far less to impart to their new re-co-humans. Oh yes. So much less not to know back then. Huh! Shakespeare! Think you’d be any better at the job than me? Teaching them to write purty ain’t gonna help. They’ll all be dead of the plague by the end of their first couplets. Oh well bloody done, Joseph of Arimathea. So now they know about altruism and you happened to know how to make sandals. But how are they going to make red wine? Or invent music? Is a planet without Pump up the Jam even worth trying to recreate?

But slapped myself down. What arrogance! Easy for us – or me, seeing as the rest of you have been momentarily obliterated – to think that life was less complicated in the past. That we’re all specialists now. That they were all generalists back then. No doubt the medical profession seemed just as impenetrable to us non-people of science a squillion years ago as it does today, even if the most advanced remedy was to go and pick a leaf off three neighbouring bushes and put two of them in your hair and the other under your pillow.

And then I worried if, by some freakish PS to the original freakish disaster which had left me alone and in sole possession of knowledge in the first place, a wormhole was created whereby I regained access to Wikipedia – yes, to all knowledge – that I would just set it up on a big screen for all the new re-cos to watch – hopefully a sheep-dog would have survived the disaster with me – and just play it to them over and over again at high-speed in the same way that Milla Jovovich watched history in The Fifth Element. I might not try to resculpt humanity at all. Just let them become and recreate all that we had been and all that we had had.

It is terrible not to have an imagination beyond marzipan.

My name is BiB, and my beloved is on holiday.


1. headbang8 - October 20, 2009

You did say that you hadn’t been drinking, BiB?

2. annie - October 20, 2009

Hurrah, you’re alive! Now I’ll go back and read your post properly x

3. Hum ELT - October 20, 2009

You’re supposed to keep away from that kind of mushroom!

4. BiB - October 21, 2009

Hum ELT, I must say that trips to the forest are far more difficult when a city slicker like me – what do you mean you didn’t notice? – hasn’t got his Russian mushroom-expert by his side.

Annie, don’t bother! Or only skim read. New blog well and truly noted. Long may you sail in her!

Headbang, alas, my last period of abstinence is now a dim and distant memory. I can pat myself on the back, though, for just having passed my 2-year anniversary without a fag. Still miss the bastards.

5. liukchik - October 21, 2009

Welcome back, dear. I see you have updated my link. You are more than welcome to hop on the bus (cheap and quick) or train (not cheap or quick) and head down here if you wish. I still have almost 2 weeks before my course starts…

6. BiB - October 22, 2009

A trip to Prague will go down on my agenda, along with paying off my debts and getting a life. But it won’t be in the next two weeks… But you have got me playing with my favourite website – Deutsche Bahn’s – and I see I could do it on a direct train in four and a bit hours for 29 euros. Right, mark the fantasy down as concrete.

7. ThePenguin - October 25, 2009

Funny, I’ve been seeing your Doppelgänger around quite a lot recently so I figured you might be back.

8. narrowback - October 27, 2009

gawd, I had nearly deleted your blog from my favorites since it appeared that you had moved on from blogging or worse yet just chosen another – unknown – venue.

would you really just let the re-cos simply become and recreate all that we had been without the slightest bit of tinkering? I’d be tempted to make a few suggestions… one would be to tell the folks in a certain rural part of my country that a beer/clam juice/tomato juice combo is by no means an acceptable libation.

hope the next hiatus is shorter

9. Marsha Klein - October 28, 2009

Well hello there! It’s good to see you back blogging, although you sound more than a little fed-up. I can’t help noticing that, while I was on holiday, both you and Patroclus blogged for the first time in eons. Only one logical conclusion can be drawn from this turn of events – I should obviously go on holiday and STAY THERE!

Hope we’ll be seeing more of you in the very near future. x

10. Valerie in San Diego - October 31, 2009

It’s okay. I know how to make really, really good marzipan. I’ll teach you if we’re ever in the same country.

11. BiB - November 1, 2009

Valerie, it’s a deal. Hopefully you’ll pass on some other tips for me to improve re-humanity with at the same time.

Marshypops, a holiday. How lovely! Was it somewhere delicious? Could you get to the destination without boarding a plane? That is now just about my only criterion for weighing up the pros and cons of any journey.

Narrowback, thanks for sticking with me. I suppose I could do some tinkering. Or at least maybe tell a white lie or two. I mean, it’d be fun saying that, for example, the world was once ruled by the mighty empire of Belize or something.

Peng(u)ers, I met a geezer recently who told me he had an acquaintance who was a Doppelgänger of mine too. I can only conclude I have a very common face indeed. Can you ask the Japanese me what he’s doing with his life? The one this geezer knew sounded as if he was having the most sickeningly happy existence ever.

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