The Trip Of Doom was a beauty, all covered in the shimmery outer wrapping of an 8 hour journey home that got me into bed at 1am. When I got up this morning I would have rather have listened to 24 hours of Cote’s Cube repeats than gone to my chosen workplace, but here I am. At this moment in time I’m emanating waves of hate due to my current situation, which I do on most weekdays, but the waves have more significant height and period today. The reason is the Trip Of Doom. It gave me everything I wanted and more, countless waves, a sunset ‘just me and me mates’ session on a right wedge of plenty, good non-animal carcass food, a force 5 sunburn to the chops and red eye that will be with me until next week. But it gave me something I didn’t ask for; clarity. It gave me custom Lopez Goggles that allow me to look at my life and see it for what it is. It’s a 30 year old chicken shit flake, who is lost in a sea of monthly targets and clothing allowances, selling shit people just don’t need, whilst supporting sweat shops and industry bro downs. This unsightly clarity created the aforementioned hate waves, but I’m truly only mad at myself. Mad that I let life get the better of me and that I settled for 12th best with a gift voucher to Boots. Fuck this; the Trip Of Doom’s present will not be wasted. I will take the Lopez Clarity Goggles and change this life. Updates to follow….
These are moments of clarity for either the participant or observer: