The Ties that Bump and Grind

Stuff that Downe happens to have in his glovebox.


The modest, talented and humble Marc Downe is obsessed with cable ties and labeling everyone everything.

Ah, friendship – it is the wave that washes our boats ashore, but not without rocking them until we are on the verge of puking our guts up. Some connections made and kept are obvious choices and come about by chance, some are made with hesitation and kept at fists length, and some are downright wretched and deserved of the catastrophe that is inevitably waiting around the corner. It is the latter that I seem to be dealing with whilst in the pre-dawn of the midday in the year before my twilighting years. And I have finally realised why these connections were made, and why they fail; desire. I desired these connections in some way, whether it be for comedic interests, frivolity, lust, or boredom. My ‘real’ friends, those that grew organically and never a decision was made to continue to see this person, just happened.  A time to get together for coffee, or a quick chat to discuss Kanye West’s death and why it took someone so long to take him out. Shooting the proverbial shit, basically.

Oohhh Options!
Oohhh Options!

These ties that choke our patience and self-respect are not always hard or require work, but they do require us to put aside the true reasons for the bind in the first place. They do not always end, but they should. There are those that claim to be too busy to always be there or to return a phone call, but buying groceries or washing a load of laundry is not busy, it is a distraction to reality and a way to prove to yourself that you are busy and not the seemingly boring person with not much to do but brew up a cup of coffee and watch the telly. It is true that when you whittle away barnacle buddies, you may be left with a handful of true mates that don’t and can’t always satisfy your need for entertainment and gratification but they don’t need to; read a book, take a nap, go for a walk, masturbate.

The desire to carry on destructive networks on the basis of ‘friendship’ only blinds us to the real reason: I want to fuck that person, or at least fuck them up and myself in the process. Maybe we should all take some time out and assess whether or not moments of boredom should be an alternative to useless moments of “What the fudge am I doing with this loser!”. Because, let’s face it, they’re probably into you differently than you are into them otherwise it wouldn’t be a friendship at all, it would be a fledgling bootycall situation.

This writer is going to cull, and not because I am a cold-hearted android without the capacity to feel warmth, even if that heat only emanates from a whirring external hard drive, but because I am better than all those horrible people I have just spoken about. If only they realised that they wanted me as much as I wanted them… pff, idiots.

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Much more than just a hairdo, he is hip and groin. He was one of the founding members of the now defunct, and believes that disco music was made to make you dance. He once wore a pair of shoes, and nothing will stop him from breathing but sweet, sweet death.


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