decisions

HOW DO YOU DO…

decisions

What decision?

Is there anything, anything else I can possibly consider to spend my time doing to put off actually deciding to decide? After cleaning the flat, trimming my nails, pubes, nose, ears, pits and nipples, gluing all loose stuff, making soup for next five weeks, checking my facebook four and a half thousand times. Reading every link on the internet about the potted history of cotton production in the Northwest. Then thinking about anyone who would want to know more than me about the history of cotton production in the Northwest. Masturbating more than I should while watching the only sexy part of a DVD about the holocaust I continue to watch despite knowing the ending, despite everyone knowing the ending, I can now relax with the sound of satisfaction. Avoiding can be hard. I think I broke a sweat at one point.

Why sidestep decisions? Because if you don't they wouldn't be decisions they'd be events that you actually do, not groundbreakingly significant life changing highaytas's kept on their relative knife points by your own inability to accept Josh as a friend, even though last time you met you thought he seemed a bit of a dick and he's probably posts his meals and moods to get anyone interested in his sad mediocre pathetic life. But you sat next to him in R.E. and he knows Jackie Spencer and she looks fit. And I’m starting to use the word fit, what have I become, I need to think of either the low I’ve sank, the next course of resurection and how this could have all happened. But I'm not I’m staring at josh's blubbery fat face thinking should I?

The ponderer

I’ll go and sleep on it. I’ll come back in the morning with a decision. I’ll have to decide this week. Pondering is so ploddy, you’re not really thinking you’re itching.

If you can think of five or more decisions you haven’t made, poor poo you. I’m lucky if I have to make one a week. Good decisions, not shall I press snooze. Big ones that affect things n people n stuff. The ponderer as a species would probably be a survivor of the Neolithic race. He’d think about how to cook and have to settle with the ugly tribeswomen because he’d been pondering about milking a stegasaurus. Although the ponderer would progress, he’d be in a sort of underclass a less respected but probably handy to have around, much like a bottle of cheap cream liquor. Although if they did have cheap liquor the ponderer would invariably get into violent conflict which would require some degree of quick important thinking, and die.

I love her, I love her not

Making a list of all the reasons good or bad can be problematic. For one you’re not exactly bipartisan. If you’re listing reasons to dump or stay with your girlfriend (at one point in your life not, NOT my current Sharna, but it happened once). You’re a teeny bit swayed by say; sex, shininess of hair, comfortablility and ease of use. You’re not gonna consider possible hair growth in regions that are considered unfeminine, or probable underlining mental illness considering current behavioral trend to carry knives when not cooking or cutting.

Mates

Forget asking friends they’re as much help as asbestos.

You know what you should do... no, obviously not.

I told you this would happen... sorry, GOD.

Simon Cowell once said... really.

This isn't about you... is it not?

What I learnt while backpacking around Kenya... ok.

They have less value than flipping a coin 50 times and tallying the results. Then forgetting which one you decided was the head and tails. Yes, completely fucking useless.

Flipping a coin

The fallback decision maker of many a million lives throughout the centuries. Columbus was gonna stay at home until his wife gave him a coin and told him explore anywhere but here. Luke Rhinehart aka the Dice Man inspired a whole league of dice tossers who decided their lives on scraps of paper with things like "go buy a mars bar" to the more extreme "eat it in the shop before paying." Then if you’re going for a more absolute decision there's the ever reliable Russian roulette inspired by a nation with too many fire arms, booze and naff all to do. Geographical darts are the chosen method for fate led students who end up traveling to the Somalian wonderland. I bet Captain Hook’s character never sounded so fraudulent.

The right decision

Pf there are no right decisions. I sound like Morgan Freeman. Sentiments stamped on, it's true. Are the ones that socially, monetarily benefit you the right decisions? Or the ones than cause you anguish yet make you into a better person the right decisions? Yeah but it's not all about money and kudos, sometimes, sometimes you could be in hell by a few bad choices yet you meet a skank and get married. Although you live on dirt street you construct a quaint cardboard home for the skag addicts’ aids child you bring into the adoption centre because some nosey neighborhood doorman saw you feeding it out of a tranquiliser. But even then, even after the gout cripples you and your yellowed skin lover. One frosty night you maybe manage to focus on the stars and whatever remaining neurons may spark giving you the thought, what if? Sadly you'll be so skull-fuct you can't even answer, huh?

unknowingly ever after.

The wrong decisions

I’ve lied; there are wrong decisions. Last week it was cold, it was colder in our flat, the bed was like lying on a squashy glacier on Pluto. So I bought insulation and covered up all holes, cracks, anything that caused me to consider hibernation an option. Hey presto it was warm. Good decision you’d think. But now it’s that airtight we have mould, billions upon trillions of spores, everywhere. So now I have to make the flat cold again so I’m uncomfortable and the house doesn’t get sad, green, hairy and slowly kill us.

The final countdown

Decide, decide now and act, act upon the best possible outcome, or the worst if you’re sadistic. Join that obsessive compulsive clinic and go infrequently. Wear that gay looking vest with "I hate you, got a problem, fight me" in rainbows. Quit that job without worrying about the consequential mounting debt and subsequent prospect of assisting the sarcastically named Barbie with smiley fries at the Fun Fryer.

Woo you’ve chosen. Oh you haven’t. Well maybe you’ve made a decision to not decide. No, you haven’t done that either. Well someone enjoys fences a bit too much and I don’t mean in a post penetrating the anal cavity way.