Because that's what you did, a few mouthfuls a Proper Stuff before headin in the direction a three liters a molten shite-paste for one-fifty at the off-licence cross the road.
Lain under these sheets, what a fella gets to thinking is "Thank you", because for a long time memories of that sort, what they'd result in was three weeks in the corner of a bedroom with Rubber Soul on repeat praying the melodies might counter the guilt and the shame and the self-loathing.
And another note;
"Gratitude - Keep it in mind."
And keeping it in mind.
The iPod, having trouble competing with the other sounds in the head, specifically the sound of "Break On Through" being hollered by Sinéad and Anna, the two of them runnin up ahead, Bruxelles being swallowed by the black behind us, Eamon Dorans lullin us towards it, promises of music fit to mend and fringes fit to inspire, the reek a isobutyl nitrite bein shoved eyeball-deep into the nostrils a teenagers every direction.
True, the last thing a man wants in the skull at five in the AM is the words a Jim Morrison, but risin from Sinéad's tongue, a fella realizes it might be the best performance ever given, a fella realizes this is how every song ever written should be heard, with the sentiments ridin the shimmerin purple path strechin ahead a that aura, aye.
Myself an Sir Fleming discussin the intricacies of hooker-spottin' and homosexual night-spots with a chap goes by the name of Dec, and Sir Fleming still shattered round the vision-glands on account of a lady in geek-glasses a few streets back asking directions, and for sure, he didn't know, but still, it's this way right here, should be easy to find, and then cursing, "Why in fuck's name didn't I ask if I could walk with her?"
And the answer, to be found somewhere in the middle of a fable concerning a fella gets a craving for the first Whiskeytown record, walks four miles to the house of a lawyer, said legal professional being in possession of just such an item.
And the road bein treacherous and trying, the fella gets to thinking; What the hell will this solicitor say, anyroad? What if he says no, the last thing I'll do is lend you Faithless Street, fucker, get the hell offa my lawn fore I carve you raw with a rake! What if he makes up some shit along the lines of "Oh, sorry, I lent it to my sister", even though everyone knows his sister ain't ever existed outside of a form concerning Disability Living Allowance for a fabricated woman lives in the cow-shed.
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.