H-E-Double-Hockey Sticks

I wonder why we don't get used to the annoying and depressing bits of life. Work is always depressing. People are idiots. The tabloids talk rubbish. TV is shit.

And yet, we always take it hard. It's a personal slight. Every time it happens, it seems like a betrayal.

We should realise the usual standard of things and adjust our expectations accordingly.

Whenever we're faced with something bad, like having to empty the kitchen bin, we should think: "Oh yeah. That's no big shock. After all it is a regular (albeit slightly unpleasant) occurrence. Never mind."

But we don't do that. I don't anyway. I just groan like Charlie Brown - cursing the injustice of it all.

It's not as though we've lived a previous life with no toe-stubbing, no washing-up, no Jeremy Kyle, that makes this one seem tortuous by comparison. We've got no excuse.

It's the equivalent of living in Hell, and every day your neighbour comes up to you and says: "It's really hot in here."

No fucking shit.

"Yeah, really hot. Too hot for me. It's uncomfortable."

And you say "Yeah. It's hot. It's always hot. It's Hell. What are you expecting? It's been like this forever. We're not going to get a day of unseasonable coolness. A cold day in Hell is legendarily uncommon."

And your neighbour, not really taking any of this in, would look at his arm pits and smell them.

"Muggy, too," he says, fanning himself with fat hands. "Close. Stifling. Some people may like it. Subathers. But not me."

You rub your eyes in cartoonish exasperation. "John. For fuck's sake. We go through this EVERY DAY. It's always hot. Why are you surprised?"

He picks his teeth. "Yeah, I'm roasting. The heat is the worst thing about this place." He picks a chunk of something out if his cheek, examines it closely, then flicks it onto your carpet. "Except for the demons and torture. But the heat doesn't help, that's for sure."

"Stop complaining! We've been here for eternity! This is an eternal experience! We have always been here and always will. How have you not got used to the climate yet?!"

"Well," says John, putting his seared feet on your coffee table, "that raises an interesting debate. I mean, admittedly, Hell is eternal. But we did used to have mortal lives at some point. We lived on Earth. So there must have been a point at which this experience began."

You try to think of something to say, but he's in full swing.

"You're right that eternity must, by its very nature, stretch infinitely both ways: into the future and the past, but where does our mortal lives fit in? Did we come from a different time continuum altogether? Is eternal damnation just infinite between two points, but not all-encompassing? Is it just one holy, infinite string among many? Millions? An infinite number of strings, weaved into an omni-cloth? And where does that omni-cloth fit? In an infinite Debenhams on an infinite high street in Infinity City (InfinCity)?"

And you put the kettle on and say: "John. We went through this yesterday."

All the while one thought is going through your head:

"Hell is fucking annoying".

***

Edit - 23/11/08 - Audio Version