Maybe you're right that this is the ineveitable come-down, the crash we were all expecting from the MDMA I took on New Years eve. "You feel as though the world is going to end," someone told me but then I feel this whenever the neuro-chems in my head or whatever the fuck down turns my mood into black holes of bad goth poetry, so to say this isn't a new or remarkable experience is an understatement. So fuck it all. We all live and die alone.
To bring this all into my bad goth conclusion: Tristan da Cunha is the most isolated (inhabited) island in the world being 2800 kms from landfall in South Africa and it is through this poorly explored alegory that I make this tired late night comment on the human condition... and here's a link to a related website:
http://www.sthelena.se/tristan/tristan.htm
In this seeming isolation (at least according to this website) the inhabitants thrived. In 1961 a volcanic eruption forced the entire population to relocate temporarily. When the all clear was given, the website writes, "Almost all chose to return to the island" two years later resisting the temptations of "civilisation" and thus the fair citizens of Tristan da Cunha went onto live happily ever after. They say that "The Union Jack flies over the houses, and the hearts of the islanders are as warm and generous as they have always been." We are all alone... but it ain't all bad. What a crazed mess it all be if we couldn't retain some sense of indivuality.
Enough of the glib statements. Fuck off.
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