Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

I recently saw Trainspotting for the first time. That I hadn’t seen it before is a bit shocking given that it’s a classic of Scottish cinema, and also that I’ve seen and enjoyed pretty much every other film that Danny Boyle has made. I really liked the film, although it was rather grim in places (well it is a film about junkies set in Scotland, of course it was going to be grim). I can definitely see why it has the cult classic status that it does, and I’m glad that I finally got around to watching it.