Funny how a post clears the air. This one has cleared up a lot for me. The point of stories being to give relevance to life, which is in turn to be lived as a story of stories.
My story recently has been one of radically questioning why society looks the way it does, and how alternative models may be generated, not because this society is necessarily wrong in itself, but because it's always good to have something in your back pocket for the (it'll never happen) (not if I can help it) Apocalypse.
Time perhaps, having made that clear, to put away some of the books, and get a little bit less radical, a little bit more integrated.
So, from Monday, I want to dip my toe back into the rat-race. Or at least, pro-actively articulate and get engaged with it. Face-to-face articulate, not blogosphere articulate. Proportionately less time poring over books in Starbucks, and more ... anything else, really - purely, you understand, in the interests of a good story. Money being a work battery, and all that: I could even do a bit of work for money...
Reckon I can? Honestly, I'm not sure, actually. Employment has given me a headache in the past (literally - stress): I like being my own boss. When I'm my own boss, I don't get headaches. So at this stage I'm reprioritising from, without actually knowing what I'm reprioritising to.
Which is perhaps to say, the whole of this post has been phoney. Part of me wants a zappy Goddy thing to take me out of myself and set me down in a body with neurons rewired to be - I don't know - a happy mind-doctor or shop-manager or something. Part of me likes my whole Che Guevara house-husband persona. Part of me would just like to go down to HMV and pick up the first series of Battlestar Gallactica, blow the fact that it costs £50. Part of me says, hey, you know you're a vicar, whether you like it or not, 'cos of that love-blast you got back in 2003 (or was it 1989?). And isn't the world just weird? And isn't that the point of your story?
What's it gonna be?