I've seen the
animal in man. That beast that pisses in sinks, shits in plastic
bags, has to soak and cut and prise the socks from off its feet, has
become indifferent to the stench of its own arsehole, lays around
wrapped up in filthy blankets snarling at life and rotting away by
the pound. I've watched men regress into neo-savages, committing
murder, rape and incest with no strategic end in mind. I've seen our
species fight and bite and rip and fuck one another to pieces. I've
watched the unloved become the unloving and the loveless become the
lawless. I've seen beautiful people destroyed by the high cost of
living, selling their bodies and organs for a moments respite from
the daily grind. I've known streets of endless misery, city-sized
slums full of the walking wounded, tower blocks used as a human
rubbish dumps: 300 ft of isolation and depression, whole families
staring out and down, wondering what mark they'd leave if they hit
the floor from there.
With
fresh young eyes I watched life pass by, a certain freakshow
interspersed with occasional views of purported normality. I stared
lost at bare feet as pre-teen brother and sister put on peep
sex-shows for an assortment of waifs and strays, dreamed nightmares
over the amphibious leers and panting tongues visible through the
gap in the door. I've seen women beaten senseless, dragged around
by the hair, forced to lick the kitchen floor, locked in cupboards
with broken noses, doused in petrol and set alight. I've seen men
kicked half to death, hit with bricks, bars and mallets, faces and
wrists slashed open, a false eye staring at me from the bottom of a
glass of beer. In the hush of night I've watchd an old dreadlocked
cancer patient hunting around in the dark for soiled panties to
sniff, his emaciated thighs like violin bows, the silhouette of his
long lank penis and swinging balls. I've seen that same man rot away
to nothing in his chair, sat their stuffed full with death one
morning while the rest of the house knocked back courage and cured
themselves of the shakes.
In the back-end
of nowhere I've known young girls who became mothers without ever
having seen a cock. Fathers thrice over who thought the clitoris was
a garden plant. I've known company directors escape the boardroom to
dress up in nappies and bonnets, lay in a cot, bawling, wriggling
their legs and faking innocence. I've seen orgies of pigs:
incomprehensible gang-bangs strike up amongst chronic drunks;
alcoholic women laying spread-eagled on highstreet benches,
masturbating while screaming RAPE! On screens, I've seen everything
from armpit licking to shit-eating. I've seen Arabic looking girls,
dressed in nothing but a hijab, crucified to railings and gagging on
twelve inches of white cock with the Stars and Stripes tattooed along
the shaft. In retaliation, I've seen fifteen of the dustiest Arabs
gang-raping a small town beauty queen, close ups of her tears and
suffering as one rams it in her arse without lubricant or warning.
I've been sent links to videos of amputees, midgets, mongols and
She-males. I've seen horses and pigs being sucked off, and dogs
eating pussy. In HD I've seen sheep, cows and chickens get it –
living props, perfect for web cams and Shock TV.
I've seen
faceless erections poking through zippers, shoved through holes, men,
women and beasts dancing jubilantly around them. I've seen cunts
gang-banged out of all recognizable shape, laying spent around rooms,
their only use then to help remove nicotine stains from filthy
fingers. I've studied necks and faces, stretched taut and deformed
during the climax of despicable acts. I've seen my own mother drink
and fuck her way through 20 years of grief, falling out of taxis
naked and crawling up the front yard with bloodied tits and bruised
buttocks. I've made up the numbers in the most squalid dens and
witnessed the human animal partake in the most debauched and
intangible practices: groups hunched over spoons, each drawing up a
measure of life before shuffling back to their individual hells. I've
seen families brought up on grease and potatoes and tomato ketchup;
parents in competition for Special Offers and fighting over reduced
cuts of meat. I've seen teenage rent boys forced to deep throat podgy
middle aged men; wrecks of humans crawling around the streets looking
for scraps of food; amputees glued to skateboards in a desperate
effort to adapt and survive. I've seen people riddled with body fungi
and gangrene... abscesses and ulcers the size of tennis balls eating
them alive. I've seen people lie, steal and cheat, and try to pass on
awful diseases. I've seen junkies with AIDS cuddling up together
through dark silent nights, sobbing over regrets and old memories and
cancerous lumps and lesions. I've seen men of money turning squalor
into a profit; supposedly reputable people crippling his brothers and
sisters with financial strongholds, using the most ruthless tactics
and schemes to extract from people what they haven't got. I've seen
banks play the long-term con, burying people in credit, gambling on
them defaulting on loan payments: loans scrupulously worked out so as
they'll just about be repaid come the the average age of death. I've
seen it all and joined in the feeding frenzy, eating as blindly and
as heartily as anyone else. With the rest of the pack I've been left
crying and growling at the moon, calling out and cursing unknown
enemies. I've drank Starbucks coffee from the same place as you,
taken your traces of lipstick off the beaker, and with a swallow of
stale caffeine said, “The world is so beautiful now!”
I've stared into
the distance and seen the old infrastructure of nature, the last of
the trees and mountains and fields that haven't yet been chopped
down, drilled through or ploughed flat. I've seen man visit every
remote inch of the planet, map it out in 3d and real time video. I've
seen the cheerless kept alive on hope support machines, the
downtrodden and completely-fucked-over still with ignorant faith in
their fellow beings. I've seen the lowest and most despicable acts
from just about everyone. Modern, sophisticated man is nothing more
than a successful marketing campaign. Behind the pedicures, enemas,
and PH neutral cunt juice is the animal we've tried so hard to tame.
If in public we walk on hind legs, in private, we drop to all fours
and eat off the floor. And I'm not alone. We all know what our
species looks like stripped down, sprawled out naked on the mattress,
folds of belly, flabby sex leaking piss and cum, and sucking on
antacids. That's the horrific reality of it... the sick dog we've become.
Hey Gary, you claim the historic first comment, and as a little thank you I've put a link to your wonderful work in the sidebar. I've a feeling there'll be some of my best work put up here... the Memoires site, restricted by certain themes and the truth, has often left me frustrated and damning it. We'll see, as you know, we can never second guess what'll develop... X
ReplyDeleteBut on the plus side...
ReplyDeleteTower blocks used as a human rubbish dumps:
I lived in one for eight years.
As powerful as ever. I hope this survives longer than Bubblegum. I still want to find out how that murder mystery ends!
There was yet another documentary on Dennis Nilsen last night. I still think he bares an uncanny resemblance to Stephen King.
Jesus, you're father was 28! I forgot about that. What a cunt Nilsen was. I know you're trying to understand and all that but no. He was a selfish fucking narcissistic cunt.
OK so you're father was murdered by a Scot - but surely you're rooting for Murray at Wimbledon today!
Sorry. We Scots have mordant humour. But you're one of the few I know who gets it...
Hey Joe...
ReplyDeleteBubblegum I set up for all the wrong reasons and was kinda going in the wrong direction. I really enjoyed writing WFJ (the only time I've ever actually enjoyed the process of writing) and it was hard to let that go... even the feel of that piece of writing. I was also left with a hundred readers after WFJ and it seemed so severe to give them Memoires after that with no kind of middle ground. But I learnt a lot from Bubblegum and that people who enjoy your words will always read past subject and those are finally the people that matter. Ransack.... i do have the very final part but it's still unfinished. It ended with Inspector Ransack purposely destroying the crimescene and contaminating the evidence as he was the murderer. As his memory returned (came around from a psychotic blackout) he realized he was investigating a crime he had committed and was in the perfect position to corrupt the scene with bad policework. lame but fun, and there was still some nice parts in each post:
If great photographers can make the camera lie, then the primitive, heavy-footed beast who sloped onto the scene next, with his knuckles nearer to the ground than his knees, would have been one of the best. In the past, when occasion had called for it, this man-thing had made swollen black eyes look like shotgun wounds, and brutal police beatings look nothing more serious than restraining marks. Though not a corrupt man in himself, he was corruptible. His historical fault was doing what he was told, just because he was told to do it. Mackintosh, the Crime Scene Photographer, was going to hell on someone else's command.
Yeah, my mother phoned me up almost in tears last night after the documentary. She never watches stuff about Nilsen, but it was recently on her mind as i set up an interview with her and a Times journalist who is writing a book on Nilsen (very anti-Nilsen). So she had spent the afternoon with him a few days earlier and then saw the doc was airing and for once decided to sit through it. As she's never followed the Nilsen story post-conviction she was angered by many things: his book, money he's received in legal aid, admitting he killed a 14yr old boy, etc. Then she said something very sad. She said that when she dies Puggy will die again as he's only kept alive in her memory and when she's gone he'll cease to exist at all as there'll be no-one will be left to think about him. Aster all these years she still loves that man. Sometimes this world is too cruel to exist in, Joe.... hearing such things breaks me to pieces.
A scot in the final of Wimbledon!!! That's insanity gone mad! How the hell did he get there? Took the wrong road drunk?
Of course I'm routing for him though. And of course in the Southern press he's become "British". You wait until tomorrow if the poor boy does anything stupid like loses... he'll be immediately relegated back to being a "Scot" and disowned for fear of embarrassment by association. On the other hand, if he wins, jesus, 'British' will become 'English'... he's playing for much more than a silly shiny cup!
So, what d'ya reckon: English or Scottish? I think the boy will do it... I think he'll whip federer and then be whipped off for elocution lessons.... X
Oh I think Murray will almost certainly lose. But we Scots are a nation of losers - in the sports arena. Like the Jews we are a people of thinkers,philosopher,inventors. Remember that bit in Airplane where someone asked for something light to read. And the stewardess gave her a one inch square piece of paper she labelled 'Famous Jewish Sports Legends'. Same with the Scots. But Murray is the first Brit/Scot to get in the final for decades. So he's already achieved. I think He will win eventually. Just not this year. (I say at 2.55pm with Federer at 4/3 deuce on Murray's serve.
ReplyDeleteI adored Waiting For John. I think that's your best thing ever. Also, from a fucking selfish narcissistic cunt point of view, I loved being challenged every day as Abby to relate to the John world in the comments section. I think that's what tipped me over into thinking of being a writer again, which I had sort of given up on. Abby sort of grew a new life and 'family'. That book WILL be written. It's all in my head - too much of it - but it's will will be done.
5-4 Murray, serving for the first set. Dare I hope...
Of course he won't cease to exist. You'll keep the memory going. Then I will. Etc.
ReplyDeleteIt's so ironic that you find your mother's forgiveness of your father so touching - given that you forgive her for so much. I'm the same. I just forget the bad and focus on the good. As the guy said at the end of the best comedy of all time (Some Like It Hot):
Nobody's perfect.
Personally i'm very excited at the prospect of what you'll be writing over here and if this first piece is anything to go by i reckon you may really come into your own. you're already that, i mean writing that will once and for all show you're not a one trick pony. maybe i've expressed that badly but i hope you know what i mean.
ReplyDeletePowerful on another level!
ReplyDeleteyou have rattled my cage!
ReplyDeleteHey Jim... I think there'll be some really nice stuff put up here. I'll also try and post a little more frequently but it's not always easy or possible. I'll be posting this weekend anyhow... X
ReplyDelete