Some of the things that give me infinite gratification (such as say absurdly long, hot baths; cake with alcohol in it; that which is shiney, a desire to wreathe myself in plastic jewellery) are socially acceptable and readily understood. Otheres (pierced navel/nose/ears; walking around with no undershirts; the practice of tarot and astrology) are more problematic for the parental hypertension, but still, they are acceptable.
But there are other things that I enjoy so enormously that they rob me of ability to do anything except burble and sigh, which mystify and frustrate my surroundings until their heads start revolving and pyrotechnics come out of their ears.
It's not that they think those things are wrong as such, in the way that they would if I was say amusing myself by snorting crack cocaine - but they just don't understand the appeal. Or indeed how someone whom they believe to be very bright could possible, ever, on earth enjoy those things. And I, no matter how hard I try can never quite communicate to them my viewpoint, the reasons for my joy. Fundamentally, it's like the stuff I say just doesn't make sense. As though we're figures in a dream, and instead of words I'm blowing air bubbles or talking Scientology.
Some of my controversial favourites:
- Rubbish telly. (But it's rubbish! I know. That's the source of delight)
- The sofa. (We go way back, and at times have been inseparable)
- Eating pizza while reading a book/watching rubbish telly/maybe both at the same time. (Junk food is but a delicate sauce to enhance the junk of the mind and coax forth all its inherent gastronomic glory)
- This and this and definately this.
- Bollywood. (I am stunned that more people aren't in love with this actually, and I'm shocked and apalled that anybody could spurn it. As far as I'm concerned it has everything which the heart could possibly ever dream of. Outlandish, convoluted plots! Fabulous dance routines complete with many set/costume changes right mid-sequence! Handsome heroes! Villanous uncles! Strange bits of English dialogue scattered throughout! Sequins! Just think of the sequins!)
- And now I've landed on the Segment of Joy which is the Jordan/Peter Andre duet/raising-moneys-for-charity-thing. Obviously, as far as I'm concerned it would have been enhanced had they done it Bollywood-style (especially if they had a mirrored disco ball come out of nowhere and a troupe of dancers 80's disco boogie-ing in the background mid song while it fake glitter-snowed and then maybe everyone inexplicably ended up in Venice in the next shot jumping around on gondolas) - BUT it is still sublime. So do your soul and favour and go here and watch it forthwith. I challenge your day not to feel just that little bit better.