I'm stuck in an endless conversation. I don't know where it began or what it's about or even who it is with. Or even if my contributions are all that relevant.
I spend my mornings before work sitting at the Masonic compasses at custom house square staring out over the Lagan at the Odyssey Complex. Thinking about goths and satanists, and crackheads and alcoholics, and my puppy dog that depends on me, nights of smokin' hot heavy metal rock and roll vomit parties and if I'll ever get them back? and if I'll ever get out of the call centre before it shuts down anyway? And if I do will I get somewhere I want to go? And will I ever get a sweetheart of my own before I too turn to stone?
The little bit of okayness I gained from sneering at Captain Cool Bastard has trickled away like the last dribble of pish on the toilet seat the morning after a humungus bender.
I can see it, there's something of what I loved still there but I don't want it back, because it would't be enough.
Showing posts with label satanists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label satanists. Show all posts
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Friday, 6 March 2009
Those Poor Shops of Belfast
We have new neighbours. I heard them moving in yesterday. Two big sweaty metallers. When I saw them move in I was so shocked I just blurted out:
"Hello Sweaty Metallers, do yous worship the devil?"
"Get fucked you spidey ballbag," one of them said flipping me da bird.
Then I explained that I wasn't judging him it was just that the peeps who used to live there were satanists.
"Do you want your shit kicked in?" he asked, thinking I was just taking the piss more.
It wouldn't have been right to slap them around the place, because I'm sure they get people saying this shit to them all the time. I went inside. I figured I'd go round another time and introduce myself properly.
Fabian came home today in tears. When I asked him what was wrong he said that he'd caught a wee kid shop lifting and called the cops, when the cops came it was the same ones that busted him last year. The cop didn't recognise him but Fabian realised there and then what a scumbag he was.
"So you're not going to catch shoplifters anymore?" I asked.
"No!" he spat. "I'm a scumbag for thieving. Those poor shops of Belfast."
One of the chairs in our kitchen has a wonky leg. If he'd been sitting on it I'd have kicked it out from under him. But as it was he was on a sturdy seat.
"Hello Sweaty Metallers, do yous worship the devil?"
"Get fucked you spidey ballbag," one of them said flipping me da bird.
Then I explained that I wasn't judging him it was just that the peeps who used to live there were satanists.
"Do you want your shit kicked in?" he asked, thinking I was just taking the piss more.
It wouldn't have been right to slap them around the place, because I'm sure they get people saying this shit to them all the time. I went inside. I figured I'd go round another time and introduce myself properly.
Fabian came home today in tears. When I asked him what was wrong he said that he'd caught a wee kid shop lifting and called the cops, when the cops came it was the same ones that busted him last year. The cop didn't recognise him but Fabian realised there and then what a scumbag he was.
"So you're not going to catch shoplifters anymore?" I asked.
"No!" he spat. "I'm a scumbag for thieving. Those poor shops of Belfast."
One of the chairs in our kitchen has a wonky leg. If he'd been sitting on it I'd have kicked it out from under him. But as it was he was on a sturdy seat.
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