Optimistic

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After work, there came a bath and a cigarette to ease my aching bones. An hour or so later and all dried off, I found myself in bed watching a compilation on YouTube of all the Neighbours intros from the 1990’s. Y’know, the Australian soap opera set in Ramsay Street? As a kid, they showed it twice daily Monday through to Friday. During school term, I’d catch the afternoon airing but during the holidays around my grandparents’ house, I’d watch the earlier midday airing as well. There was this one girl in it, she was blonde and had a strange smile and was the first object of desire that led me into tasting self-abuse back when my childhood was still in full swing. She stirred something within me that made my heart sway. She was in a few of the intros as it happens, and seeing her there all golden and carefree brought back some good memories while I thought about all my writing and editing that needed to be done of which had been delayed due to my laziness. Shit. So many emails and messages to respond to as well, but the afternoon just drifted away with me going on to watch several episodes that no doubt a younger version of myself had once watched when they first came out twenty-odd years ago. When they finished playing, I knocked one out while listening to Optimistic by Radiohead. I synchronized my climax to coincide with the climax of the song, and in the immediate seconds that followed, my human self was gone, replaced by an orb of energy, pulsating and travelling through time with no sense of order or form. For a fraction of a second, I was touching the golden girl’s breasts on her parent’s driveway beneath a boiling sun on that famous street in Australia, and then I was on a strip of wasteland watching some guy being lynched by an angry mob. They were putting this tyre around his arms and waist, and as he struggled to get free, someone poured gasoline over it and set him alight. The flames were vicious, and the scene was a real horror show, but as quickly as it had sprung to life it popped out of existence, and all that was left of the experience was a mild tingling in my fingers and toes.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com

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