Paradise Lost, indeed.
She kisses my shoulder and rests her head against my neck, whisperin', aye, she's sayin', "This… bein' with you, t'is enough, I think."
The Devil's Rejects paused on the telly, Michael Berryman's eyes caught halfways twixt a blink, and her own eyes, when she tilts her head back for to tell me things altogether too intimate for to reveal herein, her own eyes, I say, all alive with that beautiful autumnal G-minor radiance.
She kisses me, and himself there, he gives a shuffle could be mistaken for the embryonic rustle o' some glorious towering thrust o' sturdiest steed. "Oh" says I, "What's this…"
"Is it…?"
No, t'is far from it.
A host o' possible explanations career back and forth cross the mind-wax.
A side-effect o' the mooder-uppers prescribed on account of a fierce mind-funk couple whiles back, the rapscallions aiding the happy-glands whilst simultaneously wrecking no end o' havoc on the limbic system; some wretched atrophy o' the pituitary gland or the bindings o' the nut-knack-hammock; a hitherto dormant diabetic condition; a crippling fear o' being crap.
In the final analysis, only the first and last o' these are at all credible, and the first makes no sense on account of manys a jolly wank having been teased out an upstanding filth-limb manys a time since first popping a pill of that sort.
Discussing the matter with grand companion and fellow Blogcritic Sir Fleming a whiles later in the café beside the 24 hour library, he nods sagely, aye, and says all about how cruel it is, how the fear o' failing to please the other leads to the kindsa physiological turmoil fairly guarantees nothing shy o' that right there.
Myself and mine Lady-Friend, we sat there till the dawn was set for spreading its legs and spitting the new morn out across the skyways.
"I think I'm gonna have to go to sleep" she says. "I dare say I'll have a head like a double-fucked arse I don't get a couple hours kip afore 8a.m."
I nodded.
Round about the moment when she kissed me good night and whispered certain amorous asides into my ear, round about the point where she lay back 'gainst the pillow and closed her eyes that sleep might get to tingling the corners o' her dream-pipes, round about that time when I noticed again how beautiful she looked with the rumors o' morning-time lain o'er her there like a veil, round about that time, I say, Himself there, he decided probably he was fit for to help me out after all.
Article comments
1 - Gordon Hauptfleisch
You truly wield a mean 'postrophe,Duke, but I'll never quite think of the mantlepiece in quite the same way again.
Another great read--Thanks.
2 - Mark Saleski
once again duke, outstanding stuff.
3 - Mary K. Williams
Gerry and The Minister'I keep thinking..."Jerry (or Gerry) and the Pacemakers"
I think Gerry and the Minister is a right proper title of something. Mark my words Duke! You'll be wanting to use this for something!
Now, to the actual writing.
You do not disapoint dear Duke.
4 - Duke De Mondo
thank you folks! this is a touch longer than i'd expected it to be, but there you go. still, i think i don't dislike it. (i've never heard THOSE words uttered, alas. that'd make for a fine Mind Wax in itself)
mary - i kept thinkin of gerry and the pacemakers too! i was gonna go back and change all the Gerry to Jerry, just to see if it might ease that somewhat. but then, havin Gerry And The Pacemakers flutter front the eyes every so often isn't at all bad.
thanks again, folks.
5 - Mat Brewster
So beautiful my filth-limb wept.
6 - Duke De Mondo
HA! well i hope you wiped up... and thank you, Sir Brewster!
7 - Aaron Fleming
Excellent stuff! I think you're right, keep the bad memories, for they make the good experiences all the better by way of contrast.
8 - Festive Dave
You are insane. hahaha. Now I'll think of you every time I stare at my gangling, flaccid manhood :(
9 - Duke De Mondo
Festive Dave! Saint's preserve us. wonderful to see you here, and i think it's only fair you should think of me in those circumstances, since i surely think of you every time the tweeds shuffle.
and sir fleming, thank you, and apologies for missing your comment. how in hells name did that happen?
10 - Sir Rodney Dinkle- my Delight.
I fear you have become a caricature of your own overstressed rhetoric, which delights itself in saying very little at all. All in all a fine display of vocal masturbation spun with the integrity of a child molestor’s charm. The cretins will think this a harsh review. Well I say it’s not in so much as it lacks detail, but thank fuck, finally someone tells a man what must be said! Indeed that’s what I say on the matter and I say no more.
p.s. I’m pathetic in so much as ill be back. Perhaps even with a tale of my own.
11 - Duke De Mondo
Sir Rodney Dinkle, you, sir, have voiced what i myself have been thinking for much of the past whiles. and hurrah that you've given such thoughts such marvellous words to play with. thank you, but i dunno that i delight in sayin very little at all. i try of times to say something. it's with none much delight whatsoever that i find an altogether savage emptiness remaining therein of occasion.
surely you couldn't have said it at a better time! thanks, man.
12 - sir Rodney Dinkle- my Delight.
I must retract my bitter scorn, for I meant no malice and I suspect I have portrayed much. I truly do admire your work and dedication; it is a triumph I lack considerably. A shit day makes me project my own self-loathing onto undeserving others. My review has credit in so much as it reflects the truly shameful nature of its author, nothing more. Forgive me, and do keep writing, your work is clearly a deserving joy to many.
13 - a distant void
I suggest you, tighthen up your expression, condense your images and refine your narrative into a more fluent and digestable form. At time your articles can be more exhausting to read rather than enjoyable, which is a shame because they harness huge potential. I insist you keep the lyrical tone that pervades your work, but try not to let it, distract away from the precision of the point or emotion your trying to convey " it’s a simple matter of subtlelty more than anything. And most importantly use your often brilliant metaphors more sparingly, build up to them with suspense and excitement, so they suprise the reader with original perspective, as opposed to being exhaustively distracting in nearly every sentence. All this will inevitably, i think, make you writing more striking and memorable to the reader as opposed to making them feel with a current of rhetoric compossed, aye, i say of o's and ar's not dissimilar, or very much alike of those, perhaps cast by many, or if not many then one, squibbling sailor upon the spendiforous retreat of unspoilt and afreshly discovered ancient shores, Alas! Or if you will " overwhelmed!