RND/ On feeling permanently lost and dislocated – like a Rolling Stone as Dylan says:
In which the opening sequence of the second series of “Auf Wiedersen, Pet” features a single terrible scene featuring big Pat Roach on his way to hard thankless graft in Germany – supposedly out of / away from the dire urban blandscape of 80s Bristol.
Something about this image of a lonely proud desperate economic refugee (/from global hyperreal Capitalism) suddenly chills the blood and knots the stomach – the silent gnawing nameless fear of being utterly alone / permanently lost and dislocated – having nobody to turn to and nowhere to go – no resources, no money, no help, nothing but bad luck, the big zip – of being turfed out on one’s ear, forever out into the frozen cold urban VHS wasteland of harsh economic reality, worn bag of meagre possessions in hand.
The feeling you could make it, could survive – if only one person in this cosmically lonely and miserable backwater planet would give you a warm hug and never let you go – but there’s nobody here but you.
All the shops are shut and the houses locked tight against you, specifically – you have to get somewhere desperately but have neither the time knowledge money or transport – forever naked under the harsh, dead frozen scientific sun.
– A common enough night and everyday day-mare for countless thousands of people trying to survive out on the terrifyingly anonymous unknown hostile fringes  of our infinite decaying cityscape mega mazes.
As you sleep unsoundly tonight hoping you also won’t dream of such an awful existential scenario, thanking a nameless imaginary d0g that it’s not you out
there (ie. right here / now – with the rest of us) spare a thought and a couple of tarnished coppers for these poor permanently homeless souls.
// how to play big science