T'was a March mornin couple years back, three or four, most likely, and The Duke workin in a pork butchers at the time, wi fanged metal monstrosities grindin an crashin an hissin in every direction, wi the hands reekin a dead pig, wi the cassette-player to the left, Johnny Cash singin bout "Cocaine Blues", lost in the roar a the machinery.
Hung-over, I was, the guts like The Raft Of The Medusa, some hastily-assembled construct for a puddle a death to slosh around on.
The previous night, in a bar a fella used to frequent, havin a conversation with a friend, aye, the nights alive wi the dreams a punk-rock abandon that made the horrors of the 9 till 6 worthwhile. Both of us jaw-deep in soul-rapin depression, neither of us particularly aware a the depths of the other's torment. Whatever, see, the point of it all, conversation took a swing t'wards the religious side a things.
Talk of purpose and meaning, of eschatological anxieties an spiritual turbulence.
"Makes a man wonder", sayin, "What the fuck. What the fuck point is there, anyroad?"
"Is there a God?"
"Is there any sense in tryin to find out?"
And neither of us fit to answer.
But the attempts had been made, oh aye, at great length, books dissected an probed an attacked an lionized an then, somewhere at the arse-end of it all, perhaps even read.
Wounds on the feet an the thighs sing delirious testament to those months, those years a searchin for some sorta belonging, y'unnerstan, some sorta theology that a man might identify with, that might bind together anew those strands a consciousness been flappin around in the wind since that morning when a fella woke up sixteen years old and for the first time knew, accepted, announced, "There is no God."
Liberating for a time, a worthy opponent, it was, the religion, the metaphysical banter flung like tar cross every calamity needin assessment, every horror in search a context. Folks on doorsteps wi literature an song, met once upon a time wi sighs a resignation an weary welcomes, now greeted wi sneers, wi flashes a potent disgust, and "Come on in", abuse an scorn heaped upon the poor bastards wi nothing other than a "Let's just assume…" by way of warning.
"Let's just assume someone grabbed hold that ol' nugget bout the 'Judge a tree by its fruits' an such, let's just assume they applied it to you, you an your wee sect-cult loon-collective, aye, assume, we will, what would those fruits be, wonderin? War an death an crusades an barbarity an torment an persecution. Christ the risen saviour, I'd wager, would a took an axe to you himself fore now, if'n he had half a chance, if'n you'd ever let him down off yonder hill."
Article comments
1 - Bennett
Majestic and brilliant. Thanks Duke, you speak for a lot of us.
2 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
wow, thank you bennett. seriously, i'm glad as hell you dug this. i feel kinda naked now, is the only thing. ha, god knows that ain't a sight for none but the bravest eyes. i think i best write somethin about masturbation fairly shortly, to make up for all this soul-searchin.
3 - Bennett
Heh! Another wank magazine episode from yer tender youth perhaps? By the way, the other one about the attraction of Bright Eyes was stunning as well, but I couldn't figure out a damned thing to say about it. But I was muttering something about "push the envelope ya bastard"
What's that mean, do you suppose?
This one right here is a vivid look into the trials and transformation, and eventual redemption from fanaticism. The flashback was masterful, perfect set up and timing.
Let alone the final paragraph. My grin gland aches.
"anyroad"
4 - Eric Berlin
Great stuff, Duke, as always. I don't know if it's because I've been reading your stuff for a year or so now or what, but I see a new clarity to your writing that's striking.
Also seeing the Duke in industry for what appears to be the first time!
Soul search away for all I care -- your best stuff comes from journeys 'anyroad', don't it?
5 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Bennett, you have stumped me with the envelope remark. i'll need more elaboration! an for gods sakes don't encourage my masturbation talk. i've avoided it for a long time, an then all a sudden i realised the folks who say that haven't are lying. and folks talk about the in-out all the time, a man has to work with all the material he has. alas.
Eric, thank you as ever! and i think you're right, this is the first i've mentioned regardin work related matters. an probably the last. what a foul job that was, i must add. lasses on buses are even LESS happy to discuss freud when the fella strikin conversation reeks a dead pigs.
6 - DJRadiohead
You had me at "Cocaine Blues." Love that song. OK... back up top to continue reading...
7 - DJRadiohead
Duke, this is good stuff here. Honest. Raw. Lacking in the bullshit. That in and of itself gives this piece life. Couple with that your ability to write it all... very cool.
I don't know if I want to encourage masturbation speak or not but I know every time you refer to filthing as filthing I laugh my balls off. That and the bit about "degrading ourselves" with you and Harry Potter woman. I still laugh when I think on that.
8 - Matthew T. Sussman
I bet it's gold, but it's also 4000 words.
It's just so hard to focus on one story when I have so many distractions everywhere I
9 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
DJ, thank you! heh, Harry Potter Woman... what ever happened to her, anyroad? she dissapeared from sight.
Matthew, i understand entirely these sortsa concerns. i didn't know it was 4000 words either... hmmm
10 - Matthew T. Sussman
Tell ya what Dukie: I've been looking for good bathroom reading when my lunch is disagreeing with me.
I'll print it out and put it in Sussman's Own Toilet Library.
11 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
ha! a priveledge if ever was one! you might wanna put some pictures of your prefered visual aid on there also, just in case.
(no more wank references in these comments, thank you please)
12 - Aaron Fleming
Fantastic stuff man, exemplary writing as always!
Always good to get a bit theological on things, as someone interested in the stuff from an atheistic point of view (my copy of Nietzsche's The Antichrist is stapled to my chest) I welcome it greatly. A great explaination of the movements of the mind, and you're not alone with the over-thinking of the big questions, how could people not ponder this shit!?!
13 - DJRadiohead
...and you're not alone with the over-thinking of the big questions, how could people not ponder this shit!?!
Couldn't agree with that more, Sir Fleming.
14 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Sir Fleming, thank you! what i've noted in my time is that atheism takes as much work, if not more, as havin faith. its almost like some kinda monotheistic sorta thing, where you've got ONE ideal, and you'll follow it through any an all doubts. i sit one the other side a theological fence, as has been yacked at great length herein, but i wandered those particular alleyways myself, an the only conclusion i can reach is that a crisis of no-faith is as fuckin horrifying as a crisis of faith.
regardin the big questions, hells fire, the hours a man can devote to these things. Al Barger touches on the uselessness of these sortsa concerns, to some extent, in his James Blunt article, of all things. (great article, incidentally). what we need is a job in a factory, 22 hours a day shovellin coal out the eyes a beasts. thats the only thing can cure these sortsa over-analytical moods.
15 - Aaron Fleming
You could treat atheism as a religion of sorts sure, but I wouldn't myself. It's a default, it's the other. Where there's no faith (a real lack of term and concept), there's no crisis (not that that's any reason to resist religion). But now we're just changing not having a faith into a religion, which is completely antithetical.
Still, there's always Faheyian-orthodoxy there for you son.
16 - DJRadiohead
Faheyian-orthodoxy and Hetero-Conorist.
Fucks sake, son! I wonder what Conor and Fahey think of each other. More importantly... how does Conor pronounce Fahey?
17 - Aaron Fleming
AND how does Fahey pronounce Conor?
18 - Mat Brewster
Excellent stuff again, Duke. I laughed, I cried, I blew chunks on my picture of the pope. (sorry pope I was aiming for the toilet)
Really though, very interesting insight into your own insides and the eternal search.
19 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Sorry Mat, i missed your comment. thank you! my own insides are bruised tartan wi the weight a the insights bein thrown at them this past while. "write about King Kong for fucks sakes!" they holler. and i might just do that.