"Fringe Wars… Same-Sex Affections… Conclusion"
The last night in Dublin, lyin in the hotel room starin at the stale smoke still clingin to the curtains, Sir Fleming in the midst a some drunk dream or other, folks roarin fuck-words on the street outside, others cursing the wombs what spawned them in dialects I ain't ever gonna understand.
Occasionally, a coherent threat;
"I'll fuck your kidney rotten!"
Or maybe;
"And fuck your grampa also, I'll eat the bastard's eyes he sets foot cross the threshold ever again!"
And, oh, yeah;
"By Lorca's balls, I'll cut the ears off a your firstborn for that kinda chat!"
Under the sheets, trousers still on case maybe the duvet flies off in the midst a some nightmare 'bout rabid Alsatians, ain't nothing a fella as cultured as Sir Fleming needs to be greeted with 'pon wakenin.
The dark illuminated by the blue glow of the mobile phone, struggling to explain the fire in the skull to Sinéad, and the countdown at the top right a the screen, you got 100 digits left, fucker, best you make your damn point.
And impossible, it is, cause who can relate anything of the sort wi these kinda rations imposed on the language, so screaming at the phone "Hell's bells, we won the bastard war, we didn't crawl through trenches seethin wi Nazi torment for a hundred bastard digits!"
But no use, and so "My heads on fire, you must help me, I think", it's all I can get away with, least without the aid of six or seven rambling essays loosely connected via the Savage Purple stained-glass chards in the gut.
Making do with the notepad paper flung round the four corners a the mattress, and the pen shakin in the fist;
"Maybe it's better never to know, never to be in these positions, cause an abstract ideal, easy to ignore, but the Savage Purple straight ahead, the eyes like Miles Davis' sax risin out the stew a bass and cymbal 49 and a half seconds into 'Miles Runs The Voodoo Down', there's no science I know of could explain how a man might look away."
Because for a time, earlier in the eve, stood midst a throng a chemically-enhanced emo-fringed erections in the courtyard out back a Eamon Dorans, for a moment that's all I could see, that note tearing through the soundscape, and what it looked like, what it felt like and sounded like was Sinéad sat in the corner of a bar and the faces round about meltin into one inconsequential hiccup in the geometry of Dublin.
Article comments
1 - DJRadiohead
... as the first strains of "Waltz #2 (XO)" begin to play...
Aces. Absolute aces. I want a flat in Mondo Irlando and to never attempt to write again so as not to embarrass myself.
I guess what I am saying is... I enjoyed the fuck out this series of yours, Duke. Really, really did.
2 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
DJ, thank you, man. i feel like some sorta purgin was goin on, feel kinda exhausted with it all an ain't a hundred percent sure if it's any good, but nonetheless, feels like some sorta Full Stop's been issued, for sure.
3 - DJRadiohead
First let me assure you it was more than good.
I think I understand what you mean about the sense of... 'relief.' That sense you get when you finally finish the work and put it out there... a feeling only intensified when work is of a personal nature to you. There's an excitement and a terror and a thrill and a panic all happening at the same time and it is fucking exhausting.
Just wait til the others who have followed this saga check in. You're going to get kudos out the wazz. Of course, if you're anything like me, you'll appreciate the fuck out of the kind words and praise all the while not believing one fucking bit of it.
Regardless... I loved traveling along with you and Sir Fleming et all.
4 - Bennett
Yeah, I'll second that thought. Thanks Duke, it was a wild ride.
5 - Aaron Fleming (Sir)
Yep, absolutely fantastic. That last section is so wonderfully poignant.
God, it seems like years ago, or maybe another dimension, or, even, a dream. Geeky glasses, sigh.
"fella with the daft blue velvet jacket and the Clerks t-shirt" - Hahahaha, monstrous hilarity at that self-deprecation.
6 - Sinéad
the jacket was BRILLIANT!!
the clerks t-shirt was great also
7 - DJRadiohead
"Clerks" is a vital piece of American cinema. I need that t-shirt.
8 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
ach, sorry folks, i been out the game for a day or two. it honestly means a hell of a lot to know you folks dug it, since i was unsure if i liked this part or not, an still think i'll re-write the end at some point. but it does a man good to know some folks understood what was goin on, an got some sort of enjoyment out of it all. heh, the entertainment provided by a fella's soul-scourging agony.
and Sinéad, the jacket maybe was fairly brilliant in and of itself, but hung round my awkward frame, well, was like hangin a picasso on the side of a shithouse.
acutally, that'd be fuckin brilliant.
alright, was like watching Manhattan on a shitty tv with the picture panned and scanned and the aerial fucked so every now and again you get the news breakin through.
(break on through etc etc)
DJ, i'll lend you the shirt. it appears chicks dig it.
9 - Greg Smyth
I can't believe I didn't comment on this at the time. Really enjoyed this whole thing and am honestly a little sad it's finished. Keep it up, chief.
10 - Mat Brewster
I'll second that, Greg. 'ceptin' I just now read this final installment on account of needing the time and the mind frame to finnish such a lovely tale.
Thanks Duke.