The thing about not having enough money is that you don’t want to think about it. This morning I was thinking what a nice day (despite Storm Doris blowing bits of London away) and I’ve got the day off and wouldn’t it be so nice to go for a coffee. I can have coffee at home. Yeah, but I’m off and it would be so nice to have a coffee in a cafe, a nice place, and really enjoy it. That’s money I shouldn’t be spending. Because I can have coffee at home. So I had my coffee at home. However my brain did not stop there; I started thinking how depressing to always have to think about not spending money. I felt like I needed to get away from my everyday life to get a break from thinking about not spending money. Oh, wait a minute. Getting away costs money as well. Off I went on my well-known downward spiral that I encounter on a daily basis; calculations of activity vs. money spent and does the activity really need to be done and do I really need to have the nice bread shouldn’t I just get the cheap bread, but I have to eat and why am I making such a big deal out of this, because money. And I can’t seem to get away from treacle-thick thoughts revolving around my financial situation. Which inevitably leads me to think about capitalism and how much I hate it and how it’s slowly killing all of the life on this planet. Then I usually start thinking about how even thinking about capitalism drains the living soul out of me to the extent that there is no energy left. And guilt follows. And how do people do it. And shouldn’t I just do it at all cost, this fight against the capitalist system, because I shouldn’t have anything to lose but my shackles. But it’s my day off for fuck’s sake and I need a break.
I had to do something and the only thing I could think of is get out. At least out of my immediate environment. So I went to Finsbury Park. Finsbury Park is free.
So I dramatically said to J; ‘I need to get out. I’m going for a walk. You can either stay here or come with me.’ He wanted to come so off we went. Walking is also free and apparently it’s also healthy as exercise so it’s supposed to be a good thing to do. Thankfully we have some nice parks around (specifically two; Finsbury Park and Alexandra Park.) Frankly, if it wasn’t for the lovely Parks, London would be completely unliveable. I mean, in many respects it is already almost. For me the Parks shift the completely into almost. So as we walked I tried to focus really hard on the quick clouds because Storm Doris and on saving my hat from being blown away and on the trees. Trees are great I love trees. The big ones are old and they can’t even move, so I always think about how patient and strong they are, growing in their spot for decades, despite everything.
We had four lovely trees in our garden and the landlord ordered for them to be cut out. We tried to reason with them, but no luck. It’s very sad now, without the trees. In a system where the only thing that matters is the movement of capital all values disappear; including the value of a living being. So the trees were killed, presumably because letting them live would be more expensive.
The good thing about walking is that you’re forced to pay attention to things around you and Storm Doris and talking to J about feeling depressed and cars, and getting to the Finsbury Park. Then you see the trees and start thinking about how amazing they are; so strong and thick and big but also flexible and they’re not breaking in the Storm, only a few branches are breaking off but the trees will be fine and the dogs will be happy because of the many sticks this creates for them.
Then you get cold and you decide it’s time to go back home. On the way home you start thinking I guess I have no money, but I made it last month and I’ll probably make it this month, but many things are unpredictable so I guess I’ll have to take it one day at a time and just get through and not forget to look at the trees along the way.