My stuff and your stuff: I write books, produce music, rant a bit, and in the meantime review things other people have done. With words.
The law of attraction
You’re only seven steps away from getting what you want. Did you know that? Mental, isn’t it? There’s a bunch of websites that tell you how to follow the seven steps of the law of attraction, and they’re more straightforward than you might imagine.
So rather than re-treading what those steps are, here’s how the process worked out for me.
Get out of bed. Not as easy as that might sound. I had several bottles of wine last night and don’t recall eating much. Roll out of bed, snag my pyjamas on the bedside table and rip them all the way up one leg, wedging the bit that joins the legs painfully in my crack. I’m supposed to be meditating, so lying with my flaccid knob squashed into the carpet I start to clear my head. Positive thoughts and words are essential here – you’ve got to clear the baggage out first, so I start the positive thread. Yes, everything is great. The universe and I are at one. The end of my knob stings and I think I’m about to shit myself.
Affirmations. That’s when, I think, you say what you want from the universe. Well, by the time I’ve stood up and made it to the bathroom (and I’m not sure I managed to complete step 1 adequately) and sat on the lav, what I want is one of those nice solid excretions, not a runny one that leaves the arse gasping for air with the promise of return trips throughout the day until the sphincter resembles pulled pork. But I fear that isn’t really the best thing to ask the universe for, so we gloss over arse-business and move on to what I really want: money. Hey universe, I want money. Lots of it. It’s easy to visualise a briefcase full of money but somewhat harder to imagine 1s and 0s being wired to a bank account. Then my arse takes over again and I’m visualising another 20 minutes on the bog with an anus that looks like Adele going full pelt. A wolf howling at the moon. Michael Jackson having his mates round.
Can’t remember what the steps are so look it up online. Get side-tracked and read about a guy who runs seminars on the law of attraction. His wife left him for another man. Took the kids too. Is that what he wanted? Did he ask the universe: ‘Almighty interplanetary system, please have my missus shag some other bloke and destroy my family. I want every birthday and Christmas from now on to be a sad, strained affair where my children pity me. Amen”? No. Oh dear, it seems the monkey is clawing its way out of the cage. Hobble up the stairs with a hand covering the anal region as if I’m Chuck Norris at an Erasure concert.
Back in the lav. It’s like an extreme sport, fraught with danger. I’m going brown water rafting. The rapids are fast approaching. Terrifying.
More internet research. Need to get back on track. Just remembered I didn’t brush my teeth this morning among the hubbub, so better go do that. Clear the mind again. It’s zen, for about 10 seconds until the odour rising from the thunderbox fills both nostrils and my entire throat. No, got to clear the mind. It’s nigh on impossible to clear the mind when one’s nostrils have become runways for thousands of tiny shit-planes.
More affirmations. I wish the air didn’t smell of shit. I want the universe to remove the particles of shit from my toothbrush. And out of my blood stream. Septicaemia knocks on the door. The simple act of gathering the power of the universe has turned into a fight for survival against the brown army, and they're using biological weapons.
My eyes are burning. The thin film of skin over the retina has been scorched away, leaving some kind of turd-fume-vacuum to start on the cornea and everything else. Mere minutes away now from complete neurological destruction. Now it's not me asking the universe for anything. It's my arse begging for sweet mercy.
Will try again tomorrow.