Fore a fella knows what's happened he's stood in yonder production line checking pharmaceutical paraphernalia for anything out of the ordinary, yacking all about how he's gonna get a novel out one day, soon as my agent gets back to me. Soon as the publisher's ready. Soon as this leg gets fixed. Soon as the doctors let me go. Soon as I get this black from out my lung.
What I say is don't get me wrong, not for a second. The factory, it's a place humming with strong and beautiful and soulful and special and dedicated human beings. But I'd be lying, I say, if I pretended yon grinding and sparking and thumping didn't scare the yellow out my pish.
So aye. I'm going to London. I'm taking a couple bags fulla personality, a guitar tuned to Blue and a case filled wi' y-fronts on account of I wore boxers once in 1999 and my knackers ended up moored off Arran for a fortnight.
Giddy London all Dickensian rascality and Arcadian splendor.
A couple stealthy clicks and Morrissey sulks silent in the airways, the beautiful, furnace-tattered creak of Shane MacGowan's throat all thrust up 'gainst the grey o' yonder speakers.
"When I first came to London, I was only 16
With a fiver in my pocket and my ol' dancing bag
And I went down to the Dilly to check out the scene
But I soon ended up upon the Old Main Drag"
This last lament for a childhood snatched by those side streets and alleys and stairways all blood-flecked and wanked-o'er. Bitter recollections of the "old men with the money" who'd "flash you a smile," aye, and a five-quid note "for a quick one at the wrist down on the Old Main Drag."
What I tell her is how sometimes, when the dawn's all knotted 'gainst the glass and the lust-crazed lights o' Soho are clawin' at my guts, what I see is that Old Main Drag, what I see is a fella wi the mop all matted and blackened up wi' boot polish, what I see is days and nights and weeks and months spent bent o'er the bonnet of a stolen Corsa, working for to make that record, y'unnerstann, for to mint that disc, working for the price o' a melody in this cancer-limbed thoroughfare a world and nine removed from those pathways trodden by Morrissey's charming, razor-yapped dandies.
I see Leicester Square and the shadows on the pavings, those pavings Shane's narrator likely sat upon for a time, flinging broken matchsticks to the rain, just afore he was "picked up by the coppers and kicked in the balls."
Article comments
1 - Richard Marcus
Another masterful gem written from your personal heart of darkness my friend. London won't know what hit it, and you might not know what London is going to hit you with, but it will be far better for you than the factory life.
It's all what you make of it anyway, least that's what they tell me on my good days, on the bad days it doesn't matter anyway just as long as you make it.
Fare Well in that dirty old town.
cheers
2 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Thank you Richard. And you're right, it's all in what you make of it. It's a fairly troubling thought, that it might reveal itself to be some kind o' arachnid monstrosity snarlin at my cheek-bones, but worse than that notion is the notion of never doin nothin cause you're somewhat scared regarding the whole What's Out There thing.
certainly scribbling this screed has proved all sortsa cathartic with regards clearing the mind-funk.
thank you again, sir, very much appreciated, those words.
3 - DJRadiohead
Just saw this up here a second ago... looking forward to giving it a proper reading, Duke.
Btw... it was great having you back on the BCRadio thing.
4 - Sinéad
our aaron, that made me weep a little
5 - Greg Smyth
How could it have ended any different? Obviously disappointing personally but, as part of The Duke's Great Ongoing Masterwork, a necessary plot point.
Top drawer as usual, Good Sir.
6 - Aaron Fleming
Fucking great! But oh so sad and meditative at the same time. Wonderful poetic genius!
And I feel your fear, but agree that the fear of doing nothing is that bit stronger. One fear shoving another fear along...that might make a good stop-motion animation.
7 - Mark Saleski
i might be getting my history all fouled up & fuzzy...but that's pretty close to the best goddamned thing you've ever written here.
8 - Fearghus
Man, that's fucking amazing. Traumatic but poetry without a doubt. You're a gifted fella. Good luck..
9 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Dear lord, folks, thank you. i expected a greetin of maybe "oh, AGAIN with the moaning". but no, lovely words awaiting a fella.
DJ - i hope you dig it sir, and t'was a pleasure to be back on BC, although i apologise no end for what is, really, a terribly shoddy segment. i was rusty, as you're well aware.
sinead - thank you m'dear. and it had the same effect on me. imagine that.
(unreleated side-note regarding the mystery recipient o' the email described up yonder, whose permission wasn't asked, and a formal thank you for not tearin the limbs off my torso wi rage)
Greg - thank you sir. heh, a neccesary plot point. it is. still, i coulda worked just as well with a different conclusion. ah well.
Sir Fleming - you're input on these matters is highly regarded, seeing as how involved in them you are (should point out the email wasn't an email to Sir Fleming). and that animation aside had me roarin to the heavens wi giddy throat-spasms.
Sir Saleski - thank you, i can't offer any opinion on your musing, but i'm very glad you saw fit to muse in such a manner.
and Fearghus - i'll take that luck, good sir, and run with it. Thank you for stoppin by!
10 - DJRadiohead
Duke! This is... well fuck, good man. This is fucking great. All of it. Every last word of it. Now I am feeling like I should switch from the Petty on my iPod to "London Calling." Is that weird? Yeah. I thought so, too. Enough of me. Seriously, Duke. This was a great one. I cannot wait for the next installment in written or audio form.
11 - Scott Butki
Another excellent, fascinating mind-blowing piece, Dukester. So what's the time frame on your move?
12 - Duke De Mondo
DJ, i dunno how i missed your comment, but thank you! and the new instalment is with the BC cleaners, as they say.
Scott - I DO know how i missed yours, and it relates to an email dysfunction. What i can tell you is that since this number was etched, the move has been put back to September of 2007 for reasons of finance and what have you. Also, it gives me time to get the ol' novel scribbled. i'm feelin very good about that, actually, on account of bein in the midst of chapter 6, and therefore unmistakably well past chapter one paragraph one. terror'll do that to you. and thank you for the kind words, apologies again that it took so long for me to respond.