Choose life

Apparently Robbie Williams decided to check himself into rehab because he didn't want to die young a lose the banality, but also inspiring excited-ness, or everyday life: we wanted to live, and get married and have children and see the sky and the sun and the news and Sex and the city and Man United games. This proclamation has been described by Lifo as the 'revitalising banality of every day life'. When I read this beautiful sentence, one of the many I've read over the years from the talented writers at Lifo, I immediately thought of out beloved Renton's Trainspotting monologue (beautifully complimented with iggy Pop's lust for life):

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 leisure wear and matching luggage.
Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself.
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 need reasons when you've got heroin?

This, in turn, reminded me of the other masterpiece of pop-culture, Radiohead's lyrics in 'fitter happier':
Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries ,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at
(moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick,
that's driven into
frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics.

I guess the tension in all of these writings is the following: does everyday life numb you, kill you and in the end makes you a shadow of yourself leading every single one of us to boredom and embarrassment, or does it anchor you, give you a hope and a sense of stability and ultimately saves you, saves you from yourself?