Alex James Is Unwell...
About a hundred years ago I was learning about sociology. The sociology men were dazzlingly eloquent and they all smoked and went to the pub at lunch time to disagree with each other.
THE FIRST THING they told us was that the Dire Straits bass-player had done this course which was very encouraging.
THE SECOND THING we learnt was that society worships an image of itself. If you think about Christmas, our main religious festival, that's exactly what's happened. It's a paean to consumerism, to luxury items, to eating, to all the best telly. All those pure abstractions like love and peace that people used to want for Christmas have been replaced by stuff in boxes, battery-operated alternatives. What do you want for Christmas?
YOU ALWAYS GET what you want. It's inevitable, once you've decided whatever it is (it's the deciding that's hard). While you drift around in other people's plans for you sometimes you have to accept that you're drifting without responsibility or purpose until the mists clear and this can be the most fun of all. All those goals usually turn out to be impostors anyway, especially the big ones, as achieving them changes you and they don't look the same from where you're standing now.
SO I'VE DONE some slopping around this month. I noticed I'm drinking whisky. What I want is to go to Antarctica-Queen Maudland specifically. I've been reading Ernest Shackleton's travelogue South, it has a nice resonance with my hangovers as it is an epic struggle over physical obstacles. I want to apologise to everybody, especially those whos bottoms I have pinched.
THIS IS THE time of year for sitting around tables in people's houses and doing jigsaw puzzles, playing perudo, drinking Amarone and staring at the fire. Except London is being gripped by apocalyptic fervour. Every man and his plus one is out shaking their razzle stick. The time is 2000 and there's nowhere to hide. Even granny's calling it on. It looks like I've picked a bad day to give up drinking.
SADLY THERE'S nothing new coming out this month. They're saving all the new stuff for a couple of weeks. It's nice to see the little oranges again, though.
HO HUM. New horizons can be confusing and scary places when you're in a band, you go racing off towards them. Strap me to some jet engines and point me at South America, we're off to Mexico now. Cheerio!