work completed :: 12 copywriting jobs / 2 hours of teaching / 1 weird voice recognition job for our technological overlords
hours of Dutch learning :: 1, plus I hope, some learning by osmosis
books being read :: 0
countries won back :: 0
continents lost :: 1
physical exercise :: I lugged stuff from place to place – sometimes on a bike with no handbrakes. I don’t mind telling you, I sweated like a gissy. It hasn’t interfered with my beefing up process though…
weight :: 80.9kg (12st 7 in the old Brexit money). What I’d like to do is get up to 82.5kg (13st) before July 8th. Then I’m going to see if I can lose two stone (12.7kg) in a month. It doesn’t matter if I fail. It’s for a thing.
metaphysical exercise :: none
routine adhesion :: none
money owed to Donald Trump :: none
consecutive days spent in Holland :: 23
moments of unqualified joy :: far too many to count. Seriously. Every other street, every quotidian chore performed for the first time here, every new neighbourhood, pretty much every new person is a source of enormous pleasure for me. Me and my psychedelic rose-tinted contact lens. I feel like a cult member without a cult. I’m going to have to get my shit together and start a cult. I know, I know.
week 24/52 overall rating :: 8/10. I have allowed political events to deduct a point or two.
I moved into a new house on Tuesday, my third Dutch address in three weeks. So I’ll be here – courtesy of the wonderful and undeniably special Natalia – until July 7th.
So I can relax. I don’t have to return to England. Which is just as well because frankly, I’m a little depressed by the thought of ever going back there again after what’s occurred in the past 24 hours.
I’m still pretty much in denial.
Can we not have another referendum? Farage said… Oh, Jesus. Say it isn’t so. Nigel Farage. Boris Johnson. Donald Trump. It all just seems like a joke, like a prank gone awry or some grotesque satirical puppet-show. Surely we can’t have gone through all these millennia of human history and development and progress and so very much learning to still be stuck here, turning on each other like grunting troglodytes.
For me, Brexit is backwards, and backwards is defeatist and separatist and runs contrary to everything we need to be working towards and striving for, as a species.
But I don’t feel it’s the fault of the electorate. It seems to me our fear and anger have been primed and manipulated, meticulously, for millennia. We have been bred to attack if we’re made to feel threatened. If the people that are threatening us can make it seem like the real threat is elsewhere, however, and if they can make us afraid of that imaginary threat, and if they can make us froth with fury at that imaginary threat, then … well, we’re fucked. For now at least.
But even now, now that we do appear to be well and truly fucked, it’s important to try hard to keep positive.
As a very wonderful man with whom I’m trying to cultivate a Twitter friendship said only this morning:
Naysayers may say, ‘Fascists? What fascists? The people voted “leave”. This was democracy in action.’
But this was not democracy in action. This was fascism in action. People voted because they were ignorant, and they were ignorant because the fascists are terribly, terribly good at propaganda. The people were manipulated.
That seems very clear to me. You might not agree. I guess we’ll see.
But if the same amount of combined time, energy and money had been channelled into making a coherent case for EU reforms, and for focusing on going forward together, and on collective humanity…. Oh, God. But yes. Barry is right. The sun will shine again. But for the moment, Brexit benefits no one but the odious collective of ghouls and sociopaths waiting in the wings.
So what else has happened? Oh yeah, Ryan Noon. The above tweet caused me to look him up, and when I looked him up, I found the below conversation on his Facebook profile. It’s fascinating, and I think a valuable insight into what happened yesterday.
I am very grateful to Courtney, but Ryan Noon makes me terribly sad.
See for yourself.
See how he is the perfect tool for a fascist elite. See how pliable he is. See how afraid he is of the wrong people. See how he has been bred to worship money and acquisitions and status. See how his heart and brain have become confused and congealed. See how he snorts and whinnies at the very idea of anything other than blaming and hating immigrants. See how he actually appears to believe that the whole LEAVE or REMAIN thing pertained to the physical presence of immigrants in the United Kingdom. See how his frankly dangerous levels of stupidity were shared and endorsed by 37 of his friends…
Ryan, I love you. But you need to open your eyes, and your heart. If you don’t, you’re going to have a relatively unsatisfactory life, and there’s quite a high chance you’ll say and do some extremely regrettable things. In short, Ryan Noon: you need to start caring.
You do. For your own good. You need to start caring.
Let me know if you need any help.
Have a great weekend!