My great story

Introduction.

ahem, so alright, this is a first, what goes on now is going down in
history (my history, yours if you read it) and is maybe a sort of
fictitious story but mostly based upon truth, cos i like truth, and
anyway, its thoughts and stuff you know...so they're about as true as
it gets.

Ive not read much in the way of...anything really. the most prominent
book in my mind happens to be 'the big cat book'. i was read to when i
was little and that was good enough for me. i like to say these
things....maybe now I'm looking a little silly to you though, i feel
silly, the word is silly. how will i recover from this hole Ive
planted myself in i wonder? will i sprout, and that's another thing,
there's gonna be a lot of questions but you don't need to answer them,
but maybe it would be fun for you i don't know...perhaps you and your
friends could make a drinking game out of it, like Withnail was
reduced to.

anywho, so its not an autobiography i don't think...I'm kind of
figuring it out as i go along though, so maybe it is i don't know yet,
and nor do you i guess, cos it isn't written or read yet, by you or
me...how exciting, do you feel present? do you feel like I'm in the
room with you? (hypothetically speaking mind, you might be in a
field). so its not going too well so far, I'm a little uninspired by it
all, just dribbling along, writing for the sake of it...words that are
empty i mean, cos id write for the sake of it if it brought pleasure
to anyone else as well as me.

new paragraph. so when then? hmmm? maybe now. I'm not too sure of
myself, haven't often been. been accused of it but Ive been assured
that they were talking shite. i believed them anyway, so i have
scars, on my face and in my mind, a build up, affecting my judgement,
my moral compass. sending me down the wrong fucking road, to brake
down in a puddle.

so whats it about? if it ain't broke don't fix it...I'm not a Londoner at
all. just like that kind of thing sometimes, a catchy phrase, like the
great sir Thomas Yorke, using old idioms and sayings, like don't throw
stones that kind of thing. great stuff. great man from afar, over the
screen, the mist that is fame...i don't know him really, he could be an
arsehole like me...I'd like that, some common ground between me and
the Yorke. but whatever, its not going to ruin me if we don get
married or whatever.

i am enjoying this, it is fun to a degree, i wonder how it reads,
whether you're bored, whether you've given up, whether you're thinking
about the ending yet...now you must be, shit. OK well i die in the
end, its really quite obvious and very predictable. god I'm sad, what
the fuck am i doing. stream of consciousness or contrived bull? well
id like to think it was bullshit, who wants to be great anyway, above
average, stranger than the norm...that's when things get ridiculous ey,
that's when '...you look pretty ugly' - Thom Yorke

1
"I'm sorry if Ive offended you it wasn't meant to happen this way, i
only meant it to be a false alarm, he really didn't get run over at
all, it was just my childish behaviour."
(eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee)
a kind of high pitch ringing in the air like that of a bomb just going
off and leaving you with burst ear drums, blood running from the
ladies ear.

"hey, mummy are you listening? i said I'm sorry, i really am, but if
you don't want to believe me i just might do it you know...i might,
don't think i wont, I'll sick all over it"

"yes dear, its OK, really it is."

"well, I'll go and play now then yeh?"

"sure, OK"

(doo doo doo.....)

a little song flies out of the boys mouth and fades out with him distancing.
"i wonder whether it needs proof, perhaps it does. and what are these
thoughts of a romantic nature all about, why, how in appropriate. i
mean it always comes at the worst times."

"and the whole in the ceiling love? do you want us to repair that too?"

"oh...yeh, I'm sure that will need doing. i don't want you know..."

"yep, right you are guy, we'll get too it"

guy? i don't know. i don't know much i suppose...that why I'm still here,
that's why that fucking explosion never took me out, i was meant to be
somebody! I'm meant for great things!

so now what? where do i go from here? Ive got the ending sorted, I'll
be famous, rich, attractive as hell, desirable, all that, but
now...I'm sand, I'm flaky and uncontrollable, the wind and its
effects...i just don't know what to do with myself.

2
sounds and images of the rain forest..use your imagination, its better
than mine, Ive not been there or watched the tele for a good while.
a monkey falls out of the canopy with a dart in its eye, its gross and
not funny at all. some wanker is standing at the bottom with a blow
pipe telling all his mates "i got it i got it" and they all laugh
snorty laughs into there football 'jerseys'.

this comes around about the time a culling of all Americans world wide
was initiated by the simians, who have returned from their place
wherever that is. so the Americans get killed any way and its the sort
of scene where you love the revenge....and the camera pans to the
monkey lying on the floor who almost looks like he's smiling.

"so should it make tangible sense? i mean where is this going? to call
it a story is bollocks, the acting is weak, the colours are all unnatural.....i mean come on Jeff, what am i paying you for?"

"I'm sorry"

"well...you know, it isn't that difficult is it. I'm sorry too, i didn't
mean to hurt your feelings, just your pride a little, so as to put you
in your place below me, so you'd think about it...i was just feeling
inadequate."

"oh, its OK"

"i think you understand me Jeff, i really think you get
me...like...uh, i want to hug you. would that be OK?"

"I'm sorry but i have a great sense of paranoia surrounding male male
intimacy, i don't think i can."

"----"

"I'll see you tomorrow yeh."

"----"

4
see, maybe i struggle when it starts to make sense, like i was saying
before, i hid from that kind of intelligent thinking a long time ago
because it showed me up for being imperfect, i want to be perfect,
don't you? I'm sure you dooooo...in a nanny voice with the smell and the
grin and the sweet sarcasm developed over 700 years or so.

i hid yes. to save myself the trouble of explaining myself. it comes
from the out of control bit see, so i don't have to make excuses for my
mistakes. but then i cant really take credit for the good bits either
can i? so mind flawed, self pity, feeling a little weaker than before
now, but going on strong...so much in there to say. I'm sure i could do
this forever...would i eventually just hold down keys for hours or
what...maybe. Christ i just put questions out there when I'm lost for
words, its really quite obvious isn't it. see through, until like there
i am inspired by a word and continue along the route of it...i could
have said route of its cause, because that's what i wanted to say but i
decided not to at the same time, weird perhaps...there it is again,
the old perhaps button, like an eject button for my saviour, from
ridicule, now I'm lost again and want another question or what ever, a
word, an image, something along those lines, a tight-wire, no its not
ready yet.....wait....wait and now? Ive collapsed in on myself, I'm
down, or m i through? through the top as the stack falls around me?
shooting out all naked and strong, well is now my least favourite
word...you ruined me, you took me for all i had and left you fuck! you
fucking fuck!


so i almost didn't recover, i feel sick to the stomach, the bug was
removed from my smoke detector but that's kind of irrelevant i suppose.
self doubt is a pain in the arse. it gets right in the way. every time
it invades I'm lost again, struggling with the most simple of tasks.
which word next huh?

All this has got to stop Ive had it, enough of
the spitting bollocks and too many swearing words and crap music
through the air waves, green mist swooping in and around my head
rolling my eyes back, splitting my jaw, head reclined rolling in on
itself until I'm a ball of dust that i cant see in a see through world
looking out across a cloudy blue sky and beneath. blackened, roasted and rolled. poisoned what the fuck am i doing, there's way too many strays stalking the streets for this to be a safe
haven, Ive got the fear, I'm unbound, trying to hold on tight to this greased tug of war. the man in front as big as a building.