clinging to the wreckage

I miss the times we drove. We drove blind and hopeless through the night. Once we drove to France and stopped before we reached the English channel to drink beer. We drank more beer whilst crossing the channel and then drove, drunk, through an ignorant France. From the moment we arrived in that filth-ridden, beaten, crumbling, corrupt place we were completely pissed. We stormed through the streets seeking nothing but alcoholic oblivion. I think it was the best time of my life. I walked bare-footed through the streets and they took it as a great insult to their very nation. The Australian bar had not one employee capable of speaking English and the gourmet Italian restaurant was more like the play area in a pre-school child’s playground... and yet, how we drank. We drank them well and truly under their dirty tables. We met the united nations students and went out with them... they drank orange juice and coffee... and we drank and drank and drank alcohol until it flowed from our bodie...

In a drunken ramble, I must ask... has the whole world changed? Everyone has changed except us. Everyone is obsessed with babies and marriage and glamour. Please excuse me, I am so drunk that I am having to deliberate over these words for an eternity in order to type them... but it is a Sunday night and no one is around... everyone is busy scrubbing their floors... hanging the hooks in their fucking bathroom doors... the life we live is not conceivable to them... they cannot even imagine spending a Sunday alone, reading, listening to music, watching films... they would be fucked if they had to spend even one hour of a Sunday alone. They They They They They They They... everyone... the motherfuckers who are unaware that an iceberg has more than the tip that sticks out above the water. Beer, wine, tequila... that is the true Sunday church... that is the true worship. Celine, Bukowski, Jawbreaker, Bad Religion... what the fuck is everyone else doing? They are all out looking cool, showing...

Atheists, artists, pimps, prostitutes, drug addicted alcoholics, hooligans and minority groups... the only people to whom I ever could relate. I can’t stand those striving to push forth and be at the top, above everyone else, looking down from their self-made pedestal of self-love. I am sickened by the squeaky clean conservatives who long only for house, marriage, children, dog, cat, fence, car, executive position and who have never tasted the currents of the underworld. Those who are completely oblivious to the fact that there is an alternative out there... that there is an alternative view... that people strive for different things. My neighbours are the archetype of conservative living. Having just emptied their station wagon of groceries and their baby, lady is now rocking the baby gently whilst man is drilling holes in the wall. It is 7pm on a Friday night and he is drilling holes in the fucking wall. I may feel lonely at times but at least I am not drilling holes in my wall on...

I have, understandably, created a reputation for being unhappy... or, in truth, for bordering on the absolute miserable. This is not actually true. I’m not a bouncy and bubbly individual but this does not mean I am entirely morose. In a wide life/self sense I am very happy. Through art, literature and music I find tremendous joy and happiness. However, there is not one minute of any day that I am able to forget the terrible injustices of life such as the exploitation and abuse of people and animals along with all other forms of terrible suffering and sorrow for whatever reasons they may arise (starvation, neglect, etc). When I see people bouncing around in tremendous joy and excitement, they remind me even more of the suffering going on elsewhere. Apart from that, I am just breezy.

I awoke and reached to my right where you used to lie. The bed was empty, of course, but I was reminded of the time you awoke and smiled. You told me the smile arrived when you realised where you were and that was one of the greatest compliments I have known. It’s sick, but I still cannot move on, you are the only one. And yet, I am not waiting for you... I don’t long for you... I know that very idea is rife with problems and that we would probably collapse. In the mean time there is this page and this keyboard and I write on as it is my only true passion. I write on in the repeated attempt to express what it is that I feel and think and when that day finally arrives I may stop. For now there is too much injustice in life. I see the lazy being rewarded... I see the ignorant in power... I see people judging each other and I wonder how it is that we even managed to build a civilisation. I don’t know the answers but I do know that lately I am more and more tempted to simply walk away f...

When I read, hear and see the general public’s reaction to events such as the recent London riots it makes me realise that the majority of people have never read any meaningful books or listened to any thought provoking music, they have never challenged anything in their lives or had a subversive thought. All they know is basic, standard, middle-class convention. They’ve never heard of people demonstrating their disgust. They have never imagined that there could be some form of underground sub-culture, some subversive groups, some diversity to society. To them, everything is a romantic comedy in which the main character pursues their dream career and dream lover. They never realised that people could be abused and mis-used and cheated. They never realised that animals were treated like waste. They don’t know there are people who can’t afford food and clothes and homes and education. They cannot contemplate the idea of having no future, no past, no hope, no dreams. When they see weal...

I walk down the street and see a beautiful young woman walking with her mother and her son just ahead of me. Noticing that the boy is saying hello to everyone and anyone he sees I instantly stop walking. Turning to my left I take a diversion through a tiny wooded area so that I can bypass the family and come out ahead of them. I see others walking by, chest out in pride, no thought, saying hello and displaying their mating/paternal characteristics to the young woman. I make it out ahead of them and I have escaped an awkward meeting in the street. I rapidly walk down the path to my front door. By the time the three generations of family pass by my window I am drinking a beer and watching them go by... the screams of the young boy drowned out by the music I have playing inside. I’m safe and alone.