I'm watching My Super Sweet 16 (don't judge. I SAID, don't judge. One day, I will get very, very deep and nobody will know what's going on and I'll probably get very fat and sublimely calm and beautifically mellow, like only the very deep can be) and there's a girl on it and, right, she's the heir to Spam. And OH MY LIFE, how it's inspiring me. WHAT WILL MY LEGACY BE? I'm into the idea of legacy right now, because I want to be remembered, rather than mourned. Like, when everyone who has known me personally is dead, I want a gay popstar in a glittery coat and killah sunglasses to write a song about me. But I don't want it rewritten for a dead princess. And so, I think it's time for a brand spankingly new life plan.
(I feel I should clear up now- My Super Sweet 16 is really not inspiring me to work out my legacy. I'm feeling lovely right now, you see, and so I am making A TOTAL AND PRECISE LIFE PLAN, because I like plans and the better I feel, the more sweeping they can be. I'm basically writing my autobiography backwards and it will all happen exactly as I plan it, because I am very in control and wonderful right now)
I think that if you built a time machine and went back and interviewed who you were as a child, you could probably work out exactly how your life will go. There're probably clues, you know? Of course, if you built a time machine you've really got all the clues you need. You will get very rich, but only until a baddie steals your time machine and goes back and nicks the formula for time travel, from a time before you built the jobby and then you'll never know and you'll... well, isn't that a conundrum? Maybe I built a time machine yesterday and one of you bastards stole it from me. You bastards.
When I was little I was a complex soul. Maybe those were my deep days. I was going to be a rabbit when I grew up and I didn't understand the why we didn't just ship all the poor people in Africa to England, where they could go to school and to the shops and use taps and the grown ups could have a job. The first one is pretty easily explained- I have a brother who is 2 years older than me and fucked me up summat chronic. He had me convinced that girls grew up into men and boys became women. I believed that for ages, until about last year when I realised that, hairy as I am, I just haven't grown any (literal or metaphorical) balls yet. With my killer logic, I deduced that if I was going to make such a big change, like to being able to wee standing up, becoming a rabbit wouldn't be such a big leap, if that's what I so desired. And I did. Desire I mean, I still haven't realised that dream. The Africa one was also perfectly logical, I was going to share my bed with an African girl because Africans were so skinny and wouldn't take up much room. I can remember my mum telling me that there wasn't room in the country and then try to explain the welfare system (and quickly realise the difficulties in doing so to a 5 year old) and then finally just tell me that some English people don't like it when people from Africa come over.
So what clues does that lot of crap give? I am (still) moronically idealistic; I am going to do something so big and so beautiful that I'll make some sort of mark, somewhere. Maybe I won't be a rabbit, (but hey, maybe I will be), but I'll change something that needs changing or do something that needs to be doing. That's another clue to the Rebecca Condron of the present and future, to be drawn from my interview with Rebecca Condron, circa 1995/6- ambiguity.
And so I'll get back to you details, yeah? It will be lovely.