Choose life

Choose life. Choose
a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.

Choose a fucking big television.
Choose washing machines, cars...

compact disc players
and electrical tin openers.

Choose good health...

Iow cholesterol
and dental insurance.

Choose fixed-interest
mortgage payments.

Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.

Choose leisure wear
and matching luggage.

Choose a three-piece suite on hire
purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.

Chose D.I.Y. and wondering who the fuck
you are on a Sunday morning.

Choose sitting on that couch
watching mind-numbing,
spirit-crushing game shows...

stuffing fucking junk food
into your mouth.

Choose rotting away
at the end of it all.

Pissing your last in a miserable home;
nothing more than an embarrassment...

to the selfish, fucked-up brats
that you've spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.
Choose life.

But why would I want
to do a thing like that?

I chose not to choose life.
I chose something else.

And the reasons?
There are no reasons.


I could offer
a million answers, all false.

The truth is
that I'm a bad person.

But that's gonna change.
I'm going to change.

This is the last
of that sort of thing.

Now I'm cleaning up,
and I'm moving on.

Going straight
and choosing life.

I'm looking forward
to it already.

I'm gonna be just like you.

The job, the family,
the fucking big television...

the washing machine,
the car, the compact disc
and electrical tin opener...

good health, low cholesterol,
dental insurance...

mortgage, starter home,
leisure wear, luggage...

three-piece suite, D.I.Y.,
game shows, junk food, children...

walks in the park,
nine-to-five, good at golf...

washing the car, choice of sweaters,
family Christmas...

indexed pension, tax exemption,
clearing gutters...

getting by, looking ahead,
the day you die.

Mark Renton, Trainspotting.

There clearly is a deeper and more intrinsic nature to the eccentric complexity of life, yet most refute its existence, consigning it to being the sum of all their natural fears as they continue to slave away for the Babylonian existence we’ve created for ourselves in the form of society. Equilibrium is a notion that flummoxes most as we teeter between one extremity and another, either this that or the other, but never balanced. You’re either a degenerate pothead or a fearful goodie two shoes keen on rubbing shoulders with the rich and supposedly fabulous on your way up to being the next Bill Gates, or at least trying to be anyway. Casual substance use is termed substance abuse, yet coffee addiction, sex affliction, fearfulness and of course the feast of legal drugs we pepper ourselves with to sleep at night, to look better in the mirror, to escape depression, to live….all go unheeded to the screams and protestations of our supposedly moral social conscience. Therein lies the question as to whether the dogmas we abide by are worth us doing so. Are our servile social exploits morally wrought on moronic tenets or morally magnified by purportedly virtuous accords?