Politics

It's interesting how ones politics change so rapidly at a young age.
This time last year, I was a member of the Socialist Workers' Party, a revolutionary Marxist party in the UK.
Now, I don't think I'd ever be a member of any political group again.

Have I succumbed to the indifference I used to loathe in others? Or perhaps I'm becoming a Tory even faster than Modbury Lucy's fat bastard of a father/Conservative activist prophesied?

Of course, I don't think the solution lies in either of those directions. After lots of discussion, both with myself and with Joe and Gareth, my intelligent friends, I have started to grasp something important about politics: its meaninglessness.

That's not to say that I'm not interested in who runs the country, or what they do with public money or any of that. More that I'm disillusioned with Politics with a capital 'P'. Understand? No, I thought not.

When you realise the futility of life, and the futility of attempting to change things, what do you do? I think Joe would advocate suicide as an acceptable cure for all unhappiness; but does the recognition of ones own uselessness necessarily make one unhappy? I suppose it normally does, but that's not the same thing. The solution is to stop worrying about that sort of thing and enjoy your life like people who don't think do. Why be doomed to Andromeda status? Drink and forget, reproduce and spend, swim and smoke: that's what I'd like to be able to do.

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