Eliott's Little Book of Calm

Find a satsuma. Bury it within the Great Barrier Reef of your mind. It is deteriorating fast but that is not your fault. That is Bezos.

Braid your beard as intricately as you are able. Thread beads into it, weave feathers. You are Gimli; Gimli is you.

Gimli has died. That was an accident. At the funeral you talk briefly to his mother who compliments your beard. You are blindsided: in your grief you had forgotten about your beard. You can see the family resemblance.

Fight God. She is a woman; you could overpower her.

Make a playlist entirely of Enya and Sinead O'Connor songs. 

Run a freezing cold bath. When the bathroom is entirely flooded, enter it. Don't open your mouth for god's sales; simply grab the nearest electrical appliance and march in.

(The Barrier Reef is deteriorating. The satsuma is doing fine. Eat a segment of it. Footballers eat it. It delivers Health.)

Roll the dice. You get a two and a four. That means something, right? It means six shots of hard liquor. Everything means a thing.

Get a tattoo of your favourite Bojack Horseman quote. You can't remember which is your favourite at the tattoo parlour but they're staring at you, with their undercuts and their facial piercings and so you stammer "I'm a man not a horse" and leave in tears, without a tattoo, and stagger to the pub where you remember the quote but you're wasted now, they'd never tattoo you. You type it into your phone but you're so drunk it is indecipherable. 

Didn't think you wanted a cigarette but here you are propped up against the wall of a Wetherspoons talking to a homeless man who appears to be wearing your coat but that's fine. I mean you have other coats. He's only got matches and they keep fucking dying before you're lit up.

You are in a place where noise doesn't exist. Shhhh! Noise doesn't exist! In space no-one can hear you have a breakdown.

You could buy a sausage roll from Gregg's. Like there is one just there. You could buy one for your homeless mate, and you'd probably both feel better. But you can't ask a homeless person if they want the vegan one because the element of surprise is all you have going for you I mean you cannot tell them in advance that you are buying them a sausage roll but are they vegan? Are they homeless because they have idealised a hippie lifestyle? 

You are not that important and nobody on the bus gives a shit how even your eyebrows look. 

Are you drinking enough water?

Are you over-worrying about your hairline to the point where you are faffing more with it and making the problem worse?

Are you buying useless shit you cannot afford because that is the only thing that gives you seratonin any more?

Do you want to cry constantly? 

Noise doesn't exist. Continue to ignore it as an act of self-preservation. Never Google your symptoms. One day we will die. 

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Lord Byron Summertime

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I tried to read this in as close a voice to Cecil Baldwin as I could. Because it smacks of Night Vale.

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