Every time I read this I get more from it. It's a strange place to be in when you already know a little about the writer on a personal level but that's really only a very little.
The window into what is, for me, a fantasy world of drugs and violence is fascinating and unnerving to an even greater degree when I know that its fact and also that I know that that is your past and weve sat up chewing fat and laughing at shit in my 3am.
There is an insistence to this. an incessant grinding. a beauty in the horrible detail of mundane things with profound impacts.
its a statement about the world and corrputed values and overlapping lives and drivers and hopes and at a profoundly personal and painfuelled level.
The dumpster scene...its full meaning might be missed by many but it aches.
The lines about the 900 dollar email... that I know who it is thats speaking them and what that whole thing is about.
I cant do this writing justice. its hard to read this and its a worry to know what to say. its felt almost too impersonal to "critique" or analyse something like this that's bleeding onto the page.
This read like one of those endless goods trains. You’re standing there, counting the wagons and you think they’re going to end and you think they’re going to end and you think and then you lose count and you can’t keep up and you held your breath for some reason and you don’t know why.
When I was barely a teenager I used to take my stepsisters and three year old half-sister across 6 railway lines next to a Blue Circle Cement depot that had its own railway line, just to get to a river so we could swim. The responsibility weighed like an anchor. I would have nightmares about them being obliterated by one of those goods trains, while I watched.
Reading this, felt like all of that. Damn fine work. Truth wrapped in fiction.
Things you should not do minutes before having your blood pressure read: Drink coffee, take your ADHD stimulants, and read this piece in a single go. Great read. Gonna have to retest that blood pressure though :P
Shit man, I don't know either, but is it groovy if I tell ya about a dumb acronym they teach me for when you're lost in the mountains during winter? It's a recursive acronym...
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝟐 & 𝟑 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐬/𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐚𝐳 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝟑𝟎𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲/𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬--𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃.
Excellent prose
Every time I read this I get more from it. It's a strange place to be in when you already know a little about the writer on a personal level but that's really only a very little.
The window into what is, for me, a fantasy world of drugs and violence is fascinating and unnerving to an even greater degree when I know that its fact and also that I know that that is your past and weve sat up chewing fat and laughing at shit in my 3am.
There is an insistence to this. an incessant grinding. a beauty in the horrible detail of mundane things with profound impacts.
its a statement about the world and corrputed values and overlapping lives and drivers and hopes and at a profoundly personal and painfuelled level.
The dumpster scene...its full meaning might be missed by many but it aches.
The lines about the 900 dollar email... that I know who it is thats speaking them and what that whole thing is about.
I cant do this writing justice. its hard to read this and its a worry to know what to say. its felt almost too impersonal to "critique" or analyse something like this that's bleeding onto the page.
deeply affecting.
This read like one of those endless goods trains. You’re standing there, counting the wagons and you think they’re going to end and you think they’re going to end and you think and then you lose count and you can’t keep up and you held your breath for some reason and you don’t know why.
When I was barely a teenager I used to take my stepsisters and three year old half-sister across 6 railway lines next to a Blue Circle Cement depot that had its own railway line, just to get to a river so we could swim. The responsibility weighed like an anchor. I would have nightmares about them being obliterated by one of those goods trains, while I watched.
Reading this, felt like all of that. Damn fine work. Truth wrapped in fiction.
Thank you, this is such an eloquent and lovely comment.
You’re so welcome!
Things you should not do minutes before having your blood pressure read: Drink coffee, take your ADHD stimulants, and read this piece in a single go. Great read. Gonna have to retest that blood pressure though :P
I don’t know how I got here.
You were Summoned by Legion to fight the dark mediocre monsters with writer warriors, sage scribes, acolyte authors and idiot savant scribes.
Shit man, I don't know either, but is it groovy if I tell ya about a dumb acronym they teach me for when you're lost in the mountains during winter? It's a recursive acronym...
This is beautiful grit!