The fourth step, man, it asks me to take a look at myself and think about why the hell I do this messed up nonsense. Why I get myself embroidered in this shroud of pathetic events. The answer is I don't know, that I never knew, that even if I did, I'd probably pretend I didn't.
The folks applauding in the hall, pretty soon they're gonna be offering their own explanations, their own diagnosis. The folks standing outside, just about to open the door but wait, do you have a cigarette? Those folks about to push open this cubicle that I can't even be bothered to lock.
I take out my notebook, kept on my person at all times, like I just knew this shit was gonna happen, and I write in the name. This name I didn't even know till five minutes ago, when I grabbed his wallet out of his inside pocket, alongside a gold pen that had bust amidst all the feet and what not, leaving my fingers coated in blue ink.
I write his name and shut my eyes, man, cause it's all a motherfucker can do, and as those folks I mentioned get ever nearer, the ones that were clapping and laughing, and then they probably said something about "Where the hell is he?" and they might be talking about me, man, but they might just as well be talking about my buddy here. Half-a-face. Slack-jaw.
I'm thinking about a joke I heard one time about three nuns go into a brothel, as this fella opens the door, steps back and pukes over my shoes.
What a fucking ill-mannered barbaric son of a bitch.
The Duke resides at Mondo Irlando
Article comments
1 - Chris Kent
Interesting and brave. When using profanity, sometimes less is more. After a while, one feels pounded over the head, and the profanity no longer has shock value. This is an angry post, though the reins need to be pulled in......
And that and a dime gets ya a cup of jack squat....:)
2 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Chris, thanks for the comments man. And i agree, profanity can get really tiring really quickly, although to be honest, i think other things i've posted on here really do get on my nerves more than this does.
The Derren Brown post, for example, just made me want to weep, is what. I almost quit posting after that, and yet noone else noticed.
But yeah, i get what your saying man, and thanks a lot for the advice.
I kinda like this, although that line about the sandbags seems really clumsy, but once things are on here, bar spelling and what not, i usually let them go, by which i dont mean im being lazy, but i just think it would be cheating, and its best to move on and do better next time. Which, thanks to good folks like yourself, i get to do with a bit of advice which i happen to regard rather highly.
Thanks man.
3 - boomcrashbaby
A couple of questions.
7 years of what down the tube? You tried 7 years for what? Did I miss it?
And during the time it took to bash the guy, you got 7 phone calls? Are you a dealer?
What exactly could some stranger talk about that would get such a visceral reaction?
The grammar/slang is difficult to read, when it's not spoken by the characters but is actually within the narrative itself. Other than that, I like the story and am interested in knowing the details that led up to it as well as what happened after.
4 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Boom, thanks for the comments man but shit, lol, don't get The Duke confused with the fictional narrator of this tomfoolery. heh
The "seven years" thing refers to seven years of support therapy this fella has had for to combat his addiction, being, an addiction to, well, the kind of nonsense he did just now. By fucking someone up so bad, he's just had a major lapse in sobriety, which, to him, renders all those groups, all those talks, all that hard-work to keep on the straight and narrow, renders it all meaningless, cause now he has to start over, if he CAN. Which is why he refers to the unfortunate victim of his outburst in such a vulgar, derisory manner. He sees that because this fella provoked him (what did he say? who knows?) it's the victims fault. "If only he hadn't made me go and get all barbaric" kinda thing. Like, i dunno, if a recovering drug addict ends up getting high after 7 years of NA. Maybe someone offered that pill, but you didn't have to take it, man. But at the same time, the guilt and utter worthlessness one feels after such a relapse is not to be shrugged off with a mere "well, you obviously weren't trying awful hard. go screw yourself."
In support groups, phone calls are rather important. If he had answered them, maybe just one person would have said something that would have calmed the old testosterone. But he didn't answer. Again, it's his own fault, but what can he do but blame someone else? He already feels defeated enough without admitting to all that as well.
Hope this clears it up a tad. Thank you for the kind words, also. Honest to God, that kind of stuff means a lot. Thank you.