And myself and Sir Fleming, baffled by it all, how come no-one tried to bite someone's ear off, how come no flick-knives done got flicked, how come nobody ended up crucified an tied to the back of a Vauxhall Nova?
Still, ain't no sense in tryin to figure it out in this frame a skull.
Curious melancholy - Wandering in the direction of the hotel, Sinéad and her wonderful friends still with us, and catching sight of the alley leads to Forbidden Planet corner, and it's a sigh, and it's a weary glance at Sinéad and talk of, "We're gonna have to go, this is our stop, right here."
And freeze-frame.
Weeks, months later, sat in the light a Microsoft Word, and considering;
Whatever happened back then, for sure, it was only 72 hours, but I left Dublin a different sorta fucker than when I arrived.
When the depression subsided, bout a fortnight after flingin the bag down on the bed and collapsing 'side the wardrobe, what happened was the black behind the eyes started bleedin, navy blood pourin from every inch a that oppressive mass, and the navy gradually twistin in the direction of a light blue.
Before long a fella notes how the mind's in a far sharper state, like that old thing about when something's fucked up enough, best to batter the bastard to the dirt and build it up afresh.
Starin into the mirror by the TV, and for a second there ain't no hint of a reflection, for a second there's just three folks stood in front a purple sheet's been hung over the walls of a tomb.
The three individuals, what they are - ciphers. Representations of people I used to be, people I wanna be, people I am, and I know this, yet I got a lotta trouble figuring out how I know.
Like when a dream takes a turn in the direction of a building a fella walks past every day, and it's instantly recognizable as a whole, yet the individual elements make no sense, the dream-fella baffled by the conundrums arranged as furniture an paintings an décor.
The fella on the left, talking into a phone held between the shoulder and the ear, mumbling, half-sentences, reek a cheap whiskey, and the phone falls to the ground, the fella doubles over, pukin a weeks-wortha regret cross the tiles.
The fella on the right, faceless, yet burnin wi contentment, wi' fulfilled ambition, and a lass appearin from the dark behind him, kisses him on the cheek and says "Thank you for the songs. I gave Kenny your number."
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.