a Novel idea from Sultry
sultryevening
Posts: 522
Hi guys
hope your all well
been away for too long
Ive been working on a story rather than poems lately
. and im interested in your opinions.
good or bad
Ive not got much so far bit its not too much to bore you!
peace - jamie
Untitled
(provisionally titled Big Boots, Loose Head)
Chapter 1
“ I came so far for beauty
I left so much behind
My patience and my family
My masterpiece unsigned
I thought I’d be rewarded
For such a lonely choice
And surely she would answer
To such a hopeless voice”
The words of Leonard Cohen.
A wise ‘man’ (or woman)’ once said that for every door that closes, another will open. That’s a fine philosophy for a life that’s somehow passed by me. Christ, I didn’t even know there was a fucking door until it opened, revealed the wonder to me and then was kicked shut again in my face. I had not passed through.
Its difficult to relish the moment when I felt I became ‘alive’ because it’s also the moment part of me died. My eyes were simultaneously widened and narrowed. My brain was overflowing with knowledge and then burst, retracted. The bubble burst.
L.S.D was the chosen substance of the evening/week/month! Whether the small microdots of happiness we paid for were actually true LSD is probably up for debate, but whatever was in them was good to bend your brain for a whole night so I was happy. 2 microdots, the obligatory speed and several pints of synthetic cider and here I am, alone in somenameless club in the NorthEast. The night had began as every other, it was fun, crazy, basically get as fucked up as possible in as shortest space of time to reach the high.
But this night felt different. Instead, my usual warm and cuddly acceptance of everyone around me was steadily being replaced with a cold uncertainty that crept into my head like a snake repeating like a mantra. “ Get out, what the fuck are you doing here”
All the friends and comrades in substances in the club began to change, as though they had cast off their skins to reveal the true demons beneath. This was to be no Thomson –esque reptile frenzy, oh no, this was worse. Every look, every laugh, every sexual flirtation was amplified like a thousand screams and left me boiling. They were beasts, not in a physical sense, but their actions seemed so far removed from myself. Surely there’s more to the human race than this? Pretence after pretence, flirt after flirt left me reeling. My friends tried to console and cajole me onto the dance floor. The great sound of Pearl Jam on the dance floor was usually more than enough to send me flying on there like a dervish, but I couldn’t. Tears were welling up. I looked at my friends in both pity and disgust, couldn’t they see? Were they so fucking ignorant, to be surrounded by all this shit, and we, we were the happy pigs rooting in it. I don’t think I have ever felt so lonely again in my life as I did then.
I had one saviour that night in Dave. He took the time to listen to what can best be described, in retrospect, as drug crazed rantings. Dave, probably at that time just under the age to have been legally in the club anyway, sat patiently and listened as I, an 18 year old fuck up, proceed to reveal to him the cause of it all, The Truth!
“ Right from the start” I remember slurring. “ That’s where it all went wrong.”
Dave didn’t comment much, his acid intake being only marginally less than mine that night. He looked on and would mummer agreement occasionally I cannot say if he was genuinely interested, humouring me, or too scared to leave the table. I didn’t notice.
I had a bee the size of China in my bonnet and someone was gonna hear it, even if I had to pin them down.
“ I don’t know if its God, or the Big Bang, or just a big pot of soup that we all came out of” I professed. “ But at the start of it all some fucker, snuck in and pissed in the mix”. Dave looked away uncomfortably. “ Just a small amount of whatever it was, but in the great pure milk of life, someone or something had dropped in a grain of evil”. This was my reasoning of why the world, life and people were all bad and a waste of time. I thought I could see it so clearly, like a giant TV in my mind revealing it all and the fools around me couldn’t even see it.
Around the time when I was becoming abusive, I fled the club. Grasping strangers, while your eyes are like black holes and frightening them is never a great way to win friends and influence people. I failed to notice the looks I received outside. The looks normally reserved for street drunks and homeless.
My paranoia was further heightened the morning after when the aforementioned street sleeps seemed to welcome me into their whisky stained bosoms.
It was 08:00 the next morning and I had trekked back into the town to sign on for my giro (a healthy college student needs the cash for …………books?)
The Social Security centre (and if thats not an ironic name, Im a two ton monkey)!!, didn’t open for another hour but after no sleep that night; the walls of my flat were closing in on me. I had to get out. Sweating profusely and raking in my pockets for my last Marlboro, I sat down on a steel and cement monument to fuck knows what, in the grey lifeless, pigeon shitted town I had grown up in, when a pale figure shuffled up to me.
“ Give us ten pence there, young n’” The warty toothless old bastard didn’t even attempt a please or a smile. I replied I was unable to give him the requested money and looked him in the face. As the acid was still going strong it wasn’t easy.
“ Girrrras ten p ya fucker “ he growled. He raised his fist and moved towards me.
One again, I fled, trying to keep the rising panic down, walking the 50 or so yards that led to the save haven of the Bridges Shopping Mall, that had just opened its doors. What had once been a long street with cheap bargain shops, pigeon shit covered cobbles and chewing gum artwork on the floor, had been turned into a enclosed Mall. The same shops, same tired old faces, but with the added benefit of a glass roof to catch the bird shit. Thank the lord for progress.
However town planning was the last thing on my mind as I entered through the spring loaded glass doors. Still reeling from the drunks’ venomous onslaught, I became transfixed in the gaze of another member of Britain’s great senile dementia club. A balding old fella with wild eyes and a handlebar moustache was sitting in a wheelchair just inside the mall. Like a rabbit in headlights I couldn’t move. He knew, the bastard knew!
Reaching for my hand he began to sing” OH Danny Boy….hehehe”. As he sang I felt as though he was gonna swallow me up. What was going on? This was getting a little too like Jacobs Ladder for me. What had happened? Had I inadvertently caused some sort of warrant to be issued for my sanity?
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Chapter 2
If only life was like a VCR
You could fast forward past the shit times
Given the tone of my life at present I have surprisingly few really bad memories from my childhood
FAST FORWARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I remember hanging from a rope praying for death and then blackness. After coming to, the room around seemed cloudy and grey, as though Id left the window open and fog had poured in. This cleared and I stared at the ceiling for an eternity. The cord had snapped. How long I had hung for I don’t know. How long I had been unconscious for I don’t know. I remember being unsure if I was alive or dead in those few minutes of confusion. Perhaps I was now a ghost and the fog around me was my penance, my punishment for taking my own life, unable to see things clearly and sharply, as I had been unable to do in life.
hope your all well
been away for too long
Ive been working on a story rather than poems lately
. and im interested in your opinions.
good or bad
Ive not got much so far bit its not too much to bore you!
peace - jamie
Untitled
(provisionally titled Big Boots, Loose Head)
Chapter 1
“ I came so far for beauty
I left so much behind
My patience and my family
My masterpiece unsigned
I thought I’d be rewarded
For such a lonely choice
And surely she would answer
To such a hopeless voice”
The words of Leonard Cohen.
A wise ‘man’ (or woman)’ once said that for every door that closes, another will open. That’s a fine philosophy for a life that’s somehow passed by me. Christ, I didn’t even know there was a fucking door until it opened, revealed the wonder to me and then was kicked shut again in my face. I had not passed through.
Its difficult to relish the moment when I felt I became ‘alive’ because it’s also the moment part of me died. My eyes were simultaneously widened and narrowed. My brain was overflowing with knowledge and then burst, retracted. The bubble burst.
L.S.D was the chosen substance of the evening/week/month! Whether the small microdots of happiness we paid for were actually true LSD is probably up for debate, but whatever was in them was good to bend your brain for a whole night so I was happy. 2 microdots, the obligatory speed and several pints of synthetic cider and here I am, alone in somenameless club in the NorthEast. The night had began as every other, it was fun, crazy, basically get as fucked up as possible in as shortest space of time to reach the high.
But this night felt different. Instead, my usual warm and cuddly acceptance of everyone around me was steadily being replaced with a cold uncertainty that crept into my head like a snake repeating like a mantra. “ Get out, what the fuck are you doing here”
All the friends and comrades in substances in the club began to change, as though they had cast off their skins to reveal the true demons beneath. This was to be no Thomson –esque reptile frenzy, oh no, this was worse. Every look, every laugh, every sexual flirtation was amplified like a thousand screams and left me boiling. They were beasts, not in a physical sense, but their actions seemed so far removed from myself. Surely there’s more to the human race than this? Pretence after pretence, flirt after flirt left me reeling. My friends tried to console and cajole me onto the dance floor. The great sound of Pearl Jam on the dance floor was usually more than enough to send me flying on there like a dervish, but I couldn’t. Tears were welling up. I looked at my friends in both pity and disgust, couldn’t they see? Were they so fucking ignorant, to be surrounded by all this shit, and we, we were the happy pigs rooting in it. I don’t think I have ever felt so lonely again in my life as I did then.
I had one saviour that night in Dave. He took the time to listen to what can best be described, in retrospect, as drug crazed rantings. Dave, probably at that time just under the age to have been legally in the club anyway, sat patiently and listened as I, an 18 year old fuck up, proceed to reveal to him the cause of it all, The Truth!
“ Right from the start” I remember slurring. “ That’s where it all went wrong.”
Dave didn’t comment much, his acid intake being only marginally less than mine that night. He looked on and would mummer agreement occasionally I cannot say if he was genuinely interested, humouring me, or too scared to leave the table. I didn’t notice.
I had a bee the size of China in my bonnet and someone was gonna hear it, even if I had to pin them down.
“ I don’t know if its God, or the Big Bang, or just a big pot of soup that we all came out of” I professed. “ But at the start of it all some fucker, snuck in and pissed in the mix”. Dave looked away uncomfortably. “ Just a small amount of whatever it was, but in the great pure milk of life, someone or something had dropped in a grain of evil”. This was my reasoning of why the world, life and people were all bad and a waste of time. I thought I could see it so clearly, like a giant TV in my mind revealing it all and the fools around me couldn’t even see it.
Around the time when I was becoming abusive, I fled the club. Grasping strangers, while your eyes are like black holes and frightening them is never a great way to win friends and influence people. I failed to notice the looks I received outside. The looks normally reserved for street drunks and homeless.
My paranoia was further heightened the morning after when the aforementioned street sleeps seemed to welcome me into their whisky stained bosoms.
It was 08:00 the next morning and I had trekked back into the town to sign on for my giro (a healthy college student needs the cash for …………books?)
The Social Security centre (and if thats not an ironic name, Im a two ton monkey)!!, didn’t open for another hour but after no sleep that night; the walls of my flat were closing in on me. I had to get out. Sweating profusely and raking in my pockets for my last Marlboro, I sat down on a steel and cement monument to fuck knows what, in the grey lifeless, pigeon shitted town I had grown up in, when a pale figure shuffled up to me.
“ Give us ten pence there, young n’” The warty toothless old bastard didn’t even attempt a please or a smile. I replied I was unable to give him the requested money and looked him in the face. As the acid was still going strong it wasn’t easy.
“ Girrrras ten p ya fucker “ he growled. He raised his fist and moved towards me.
One again, I fled, trying to keep the rising panic down, walking the 50 or so yards that led to the save haven of the Bridges Shopping Mall, that had just opened its doors. What had once been a long street with cheap bargain shops, pigeon shit covered cobbles and chewing gum artwork on the floor, had been turned into a enclosed Mall. The same shops, same tired old faces, but with the added benefit of a glass roof to catch the bird shit. Thank the lord for progress.
However town planning was the last thing on my mind as I entered through the spring loaded glass doors. Still reeling from the drunks’ venomous onslaught, I became transfixed in the gaze of another member of Britain’s great senile dementia club. A balding old fella with wild eyes and a handlebar moustache was sitting in a wheelchair just inside the mall. Like a rabbit in headlights I couldn’t move. He knew, the bastard knew!
Reaching for my hand he began to sing” OH Danny Boy….hehehe”. As he sang I felt as though he was gonna swallow me up. What was going on? This was getting a little too like Jacobs Ladder for me. What had happened? Had I inadvertently caused some sort of warrant to be issued for my sanity?
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Chapter 2
If only life was like a VCR
You could fast forward past the shit times
Given the tone of my life at present I have surprisingly few really bad memories from my childhood
FAST FORWARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I remember hanging from a rope praying for death and then blackness. After coming to, the room around seemed cloudy and grey, as though Id left the window open and fog had poured in. This cleared and I stared at the ceiling for an eternity. The cord had snapped. How long I had hung for I don’t know. How long I had been unconscious for I don’t know. I remember being unsure if I was alive or dead in those few minutes of confusion. Perhaps I was now a ghost and the fog around me was my penance, my punishment for taking my own life, unable to see things clearly and sharply, as I had been unable to do in life.
Some people have to have the sultry evenings Cocktails in the blue, red and grey But I like every minute of the day.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
please don't stop writing, i need to know what happens next.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
And just an ignorant question... what self respecting Brit measures distance in American units (yards)???
Can't succeed in life, it's false. Can't succeed in death, it's false. Can't tell if he's either, it's false. No name, names are false.
Acid induced veracity and justification, so damaged is he that he no longer realizes who he is. So busy looking onward at the prismatic flow of the people around him, blaming, observing, never happy unless he's never happy, he forgets that the core he is searching for is right where he left it. Inside of him.
Keep up sultry sir. Good to have you around again.
love, seta.
ive got a vague idea of where to go with this story, but writing a book aint easy- apart from the poems which many of you have read , this is the first serious writing.
so
ta!
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
For this being the first serious writing---kudos! Great job, please continue & good luck!
Nice to have you back in the writing saddle, you sultry-fucking-evening.
oh brother oh sister, you'r preachin to the choir when it comes to seeing the eeeeevvvveeeeeiiilllll side of our souls when we are possessed by that fragmented and artificial buzz. it is oh so bad. a mushroom with a gnome sitting on top is much friendlier.
i really felt what it was like while i was reading it! Excellent. I would like to read more...
reminds me of a time i went to a phish show and a "FRIEND" gave me two hits of acid on a sugar cube and the minute i did it i said, holy fuck, i didn't want to do that. too late.
later, when i started to climb the hill but slowly and without alot of pressure at first, i was there standing at deer creek waiting for phish not pearl jam, (which was my first mistake, phish doesn't have enough poetry for me. i lose my way in their music sober, so how and the fuck was i going to hang on trippin) i did feel ed's presents in the crowd, but i passed it off as a rememberance of him playing at deer creek.
later, i lost it. it was if my whole spirit moved above this stinky hippy crowd of kids and i was looking down on all us and we LOOKED REALLY SMALL AND LIKE MICROBES OR SOME SHIT and then i was on the crown and i could not escape the people, there was no air, there was no place to go, and it stunk of stinky kids and i thought i was going to fucking die. all i wanted was to get back to camp, stare at the fire and listen to joni mitchell or some shit to calm me down.
i never did acid again.
NOW
Ya see what you made me do? Scream in color.........
he screams in red, can't find......