Depravity!

On the TV news, a story about how humanity must co-operate to save the amazon rainforests, because the climate is already changing and it'll soon be too late.

The next story, with no trace of juxtaposition, was about "Oh what a gloriously hot summer we're having, with record temperatures predicted next week. So enjoy, but remember to drink plenty of water and wear a hat."

Do these people have no sense of irony?


Reading Equus this afternoon, I remembered someone I hadn't thought about for years.

The play is about a teenager who cobbles together a complex personal religion from fragments of christianity and his childhood association of horses with freedom. His god gives him the genuine religious experience that modern society and church lack, but he finds that he can't bear it's judging gaze.

I once knew a boy in his late teens who got off on blasphemy. He'd had a relationship with a priest who's particular kink had been having sex in church - especially on the altar.

The boy had picked up the taste, and between them it mutated into a fetish for sacrilage. Urinating on the crucifix, shouting "Fuck God!" and "I spit on Jesus!", even dabbling with satanist imagery.

When I knew him, the relationship had been over for a few years, but he liked me to spit vitriol at god while he masturbated. He liked it that I was partially trained for the priesthood, and didn't mind that I was an atheist. Presumably the priest is still around, turning devout boys into something equally irrational, but somehow more meaningful.


An evening out of moderate drinking at the One Eyed Dog turned into a somewhat heavier drinking session with half-a-dozen almost-strangers at the Deco, then into an after-hours drinking bout back at the Dog, then a completely unnecessary curry and rapid introduction into the tangled romantic lives of Portsmouth's bohemian youth.

I was supposed to be saving money, after having most of it eaten by two weeks in London. So much for good intentions. Right, start living like Scrooge tomorrow morning.

Still, I did get to meet Melissa - a remarkably switched-on and cool diminutive hippie-chick. One thing: Absolutely all of them know CW from way back.

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