Another One

 I have a reliance upon your castles been up in the air today. Mine are too, and towering. One of the things I want to discuss now is my aversion to meth amphetamine. I’ve totally gone off the boil with it. Given, it’s only been ten days (10 DAYS!), but I’ve never been so distant from the urge of using as I am as and of the moment. I don’t know how that sits with you. I don’t know if you don’t give a flying one whether or not I ever use again, or whether part of you thinks maybe yeah go on mano, make it clean. I hope you have my best interests at heart. After all, you are my inestimable White Voider. Hey, I have a new name for you: Blank Documenter. What’s your real name? Would a comment hurt all that much? I live for comments and likes. Only joshing there, don’t worry about it, I’m not that sure how to look at them when they appear, I’ve only ever had two, and I found those pair months after they were posted. They were from a dude called Stephen Heslin, a mate back from the Bongs in school. Stephen now writes erotica for Amazon, and the Bongs was a chemical wilderness not far from where we lived. I say chemical because of the local gas plant. It was hilly and woody and got changed into a primary sewer before being converted into a motorway. My friend Patrick Bennet died in school sniffing gas on its shores. Rest in Peace, Patrick. And all the best to his brother, Glynn. Glynn, who was much welcomed at my younger brother’s funeral, knows a guy called Kev Drugan, who calls his one-hit-knockout punches “pearlers.” Imagine having a name for your punches? Yeah, he’s just a bit tough like. Offered me out in jail once over a pair of hair clippers. I politely didn’t open the door to him.

Kevin was imprisoned for battering a local can-collector. You know those guys who recycle aluminium cans? I don’t mean to condemn publicly, nothing of it whatsoever, nobody is reading anyway, and I’m free to write whatever the holy mackerel I like. I’m just saying. I’ve been done for worse. Shame on me but I ask the Lord for forgiveness and I believe he grants it me. Hopefully the same to Kevin.

There was a really long metal slide on the Bongs. We used to dash-sail down it on a ragged sheet of metal. It was so dangerous, but we were only kids; we had the hearts of lions. This was when we weren’t experimenting with the concept of masturbation together in the one lad’s home who had Sky Tv and RTL, a channel which played late night porn completely for free. I recall one geezer blasting his load and shouting “Moma Mia!” What do you blare out during orgasm, eh? Don’t say you remain tight-lipped. Personally, I shout, “Hello Montana!” If you comment that then I’ll write a piece of flash fiction about The White House –– and get it published. 

Watched Venom last night, for the parasitical curveball contained within. Totally unfactual, hardly anything to do with a parasite in my opinion. The only part I could identify with was the inkblot bloodwork animation sequence at the end. Spiderman was the Holy Spirit in it by the way, at the death, in that little teaser. It’s hard to explain why Spiderman is the Holy Spirit by the way, he just f**King is so shut up and listen. Just kidding with my aggressiveness there. We’ll end on the Holy Spirit shall we? Ta’ra for now peeps!x