I can’t even be bothered

Think I’ve overdone it. Will have to take it easy for a week or two.

I’m far too mental for a job – you wouldn’t want me in your workplace – and not consistently coherent enough for freelancing. I live off state handouts: benefit scrounging scum!

You probably think it’s outrageus, schizos lolling about in art galleries when they should be doing compulsory voluntary work in a Mind charity shop. Oh no, say Mind, we’re not involved in anything coercive: our Chief Executive, Paul Farmer, regularly flounces out of meetings with the Department of Work and Pensions (DWP). They don’t mention that he flounces back in again at the first sniff of more DWP funding.

But I try to stay busy. I have to do something with my time, apart from visiting galleries and mocking the V&A for catering to the Poppys and Millys insatiable appetite for yoga & intellectual disco. So I do voluntary work, genuine voluntary work. Generally not that much, but in the past few weeks a lot.

When the DWP talk about Limited Capability for Work they’re not kidding. I’m only really good for a few hours a day, for a few weeks at a time, then the schizophrenic illness kicks in – along with exhaustion. I won’t bore you with the details now. I’ll write about it at length at some point.

I wish it were sunny all year round. Who doesn’t? I could do a couple of hours of light voluntary work in the morning, spend an hour or so on Twitter being incredulous at homeless/mental health charities and then spend the rest of the day in St James’s Park. I have a favourite spot where I like to read. Actually managed to finish a book on mindfulness this year.

Sometimes I think I shouldn’t be such a killjoy, throwback and miserable traditionalist. I should let my hair down and enjoy some intellectual disco along with everyone else. Apparently on Friday nights the National Portrait Gallery is like Faliraki. Loud pumping music, sweaty gyrating Poppys and Millys, people seeking out dark corners for drug-fuelled amorous antics – and that’s just the staff.

But I’d get over stimulated. The reason I go to art galleries is for quiet contemplation and the opportunity to commune with my self. If a few hours of web design makes me psychotic, what would techno raving with the Poppys and Millys do?

This will be the last post for a few weeks as I need some recovery time. I need a break. I’m even too exhausted to mock the Poppys and the Millys doing Reiki massage in galleries, opera in a carpark or ballet down the abattoir.

Shouldn’t give them ideas.

Featured image: Two Followers of Cadmus devoured by a Dragon, 1588, Cornelis van Haarlem. This painting comes up if you type “Exhaustion” into the search box on the website of The National Gallery.

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