In other words;
This year, Spring and me bumped into one another at exactly the right fucking moment, with the result being something along the lines of yes, I have enjoyed every second in your company, Spring 2005.
Hey Spring, I probably said. I'm a bit fed-up, to be honest, a bit lonely and so on, maybe we could hang out and read some Chuck Palahniuk or some shit? Some Nietzsche, even? Fuck it, I don't care.
I know how you been feeling, Spring. Tell you what, let's make some sort of deal of some kind. I promise to pay attention to your every whisper, your every subtle flourish, and you maybe help me reach some sort of conclusion of some sort about where the fuck I am, or fuck it, even if ain't no conclusions to be reached, maybe just help make the finding-out stage that bit more memorable.
Let's me and you go on an expedition of some kind.
This Spring has left a dent, is the truth of the facts of it all. A motherfucker of a dent, is what. The kinda dent could get a fella on Disability Living Allowance no questions asked. What the fuck questions wouldn't be answered by the spring-shaped dent on a fella's very guts? The kinda dent folks could see from Mars, I'm guessing, if they weren't so busy fucking with Arnold Schwarzenegger.
The girl in the savage purple with the eyes burning out the frame, she starts laughing, knocking a fella's train of thought the fuck off the rails, a loada thought-filled carriages flung left and right.
"HUNDREDS DEAD… STOP … LIMBS AKIMBO. SOMETHING CONCERNING SPRING… STOP… GUTS HANGING FROM SENTENCES CONCERNING THE NEW RYAN ADAMS RECORD… STOP… UNSPEAKABLE SATANIC DEVASTATION… STOP"
This was supposed to be an article concerning Salvador Dali, she says.
What could I do but take hold her hand and say, yeah, but look, ain't no way or no how I can relate a sentence with regards that fabulous old fucker now, now that an introductory paragraph about springtime has gone and wrapped its legs around my every pondering.
Look about you, I say. Take note of the muscle where the walls should be…
Since you been here a while, since we got friendly, since I tried to touch your leg and you approached the situation with a dignified calm and an understanding for which I'll be forever grateful, I feel it only right that you should know;
We ain't anyplace you should ever have to be.
The entry to The Duke's Arse, I say, all apologetically, we passed it around 1,600 words ago.
Article comments
1 - Temple Stark
Is this your audition tape for Innerspace II?
2 - Eric Berlin
Great stuff, Duke.
So what's next now that you've sprung free well into summer?
3 - Mat Brewster
Up here in the furthest reaches of The Duke's Arse, though, that winter gets painted all shades of metaphorical, and metaphorically, it was the harshest winter a motherfucker ever endured.
Beautiful, beautiful stuff, Duke.
4 - swingingpuss
The post was as pleasurable as a quick illict scatch on the arse ;-)
5 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Thank folks.
Temple - You rumbled me! I'm hoping to play the part of Dennis Quaid acting as The Duke.
Eric B - i have no idea where summer is goin to be takin a fella. someplace less internal, i'm hopin. who knows?
Mat - Thank you, man.
And Swingingpuss - That was EXACTLY my aim, in those very words ;)
6 - Eric Berlin
Man, I'd love to see an Inner Space sequel with The Duke in the lead role.
7 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
haha Eric, i'm hoping you'll use your power for to get me into a room with dennis quaid. i can persuade him.
8 - Greg Smyth
It says "Look here, a ring. Where's yours? Oh, sorry, forgot. If You See Her, Say Hello�"
Perfect, man. Perfect.
9 - Bennett
Kinda held off reading this, just knowing that it was there for me, when the time was right, when I had the time. So now its 95 fucking degrees outside, and I go out there to cool down.
There's a puddle of sweat on the floor under my chair, cause reading The Duke while eating hot shrimp soup in 110 degrees of humidity (the darkened room doesn't make it cooler you know) tends to make rivers and oceans run from all parts of my body.
But your words make me remember the cool breezes of Spring, annihilated by this brute of a Summer Sun that's baking my itchy feet in some kind of Inquisitorial torture.
But the memories you have me recall, memories of a time before the ground baked so hot that it cracked, those memories, they make me cooler for a while.
Thanks Duke.
10 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Greg and Bennett, thank you!
Greg - sometimes Bob says all there is to say about any given situation, alas...
Bennett, i'm glad you enjoyed it, man. i always feel guilty after flinging stuff this self-indulgent online, but if it keeps those puddles runnin (hah) then what harm can there be? scacely ANY, i'd wager