SOUL - Monday 30 November

So the Merge editor's arbitrary mood-swings see me granted an easy-going week-off as opposed to the usual floggings with a willow switch. A week to wander, to ponder. A few hours to squander.

A week to clean my soul if you will.

But I can't clean my soul can I? Because I can't walk down the street without someone wiping shit on it.

I'm gonna lay down a few things that happened this week, then I'll contextualise it in my usual flourid manner.

Now dig this.

Friday night a week ago, I'm walking my usual route home from work. 2 am. A main road. I see the car go past me and slow down. 'Here, it comes.' The Commodore does a U-turn, comes towards me. Douchebag leans out the window, something in his hand. My arms go up, expecting a bottle (it's happened before) then BAM!

Egg to the head.

Hooting, cheering douchebags hurl off in their mum's car to celebrate by touching each other's bottoms no doubt.

What is this? 1953? Egging people? Really?

It's almost boring to recount this shit anymore because it happens all the time.

There was the young guys on the weekend who (admittedly off his chops) bailed up my friends and I over our dress sense. Apparently tucking in your shirt is for 'fags'.

'What the fuck are you wearing!?', they yelled, almost offended.

Normally the intelligent response is to ignore an idiot right? Who cares what they think? Be who you wanna be regardless, right?

To hell with that. I'm through letting it slide. Enough's enough, man. This time the 'arty types' fronted up to the shitheads. Full cred to Tom for the greatest line I've ever heard in a fight. I can't quote him here though. Email him.

This happens all the time. I know you cop it too. It's getting worse isn't it? The lines are being drawn. You can't go five minutes out of the city without feeling like a circus exhibit and I am goddamn sick of it.

Everyday I get yelled at by some chicken shit. Coz why? I comb my hair? I've got good posture? Some jock with bleached hair, a fake tan and a V-neck tshirt that shows his cleavage calls me 'weird'. By a mirror, dude.

I'm sick of it. This isn't high school anymore. Next time you get yelled at, stared at or scoffed at, confront it. Don't be afraid. Most people will shut the hell right up. Or they'll keep talking bollocks but you can go through the rest of the day knowing you told them to fuck right off.

People are proud to be thouroughly mainstream. Proud to wear their cypherous uniform. Be proud to wear yours.