Surface, No Feeling

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The cunt next door is listening to his shitty drug music again. My disgust for him is primarily born out of the fact that he wears flip-flops, but on a whole, every aspect of his dim life leaves me nauseated, from his constant drug-induced chatter to the sounds he listens to while blabbering with those he invites around to waste time with because there’s simply nothing else to do. Little about his life speaks to me of poetry other than the profound horror of it all, and nothing whatsoever speaks of the redeeming nature of the soul. It’s all just surface because surface is all he will ever understand. He’s not alone, though. Most his age are like that around here. Surface is worshipped so obediently. Anything deeper is too suspicious by far, and not only that, it requires people to think, to question themselves, and that won’t do at all. I don’t wish death on the cokehead. I’m sure he’s not a bad person or anything like that, but I certainly don’t believe he’s worth saving. I don’t believe there many out there at all that are worth saving. Especially not those that wear flip-flops and do coke all night long and have no art to show for it. What a cunt. Is that word offensive anymore? Is it sexist? I’ve no idea. The guy is a cunt, though. No other word seems appropriate. I’m sure he calls me one, too. I’m sure whenever he looks out his window and sees me coming back from work he thinks, what a bearded, ginger cunt. He most likely thinks I’m peculiar as well, which is true, of course. He can have that one. I’ll let him. I’ll be the bigger man. Which I am, I’ll have you know.

A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.com

25 replies »

  1. You nailed it S.K. the horror of living in active addiction is Hell. I am grateful to encounter them. They remind me, from where I’ve come and how I, today embrace the mystery of it all. I do feel for you but if you have a problem with him, who indeed has the problem?

  2. Yes! This. Living on the surface. No point, no point at all. Even those not immersed in drugs, look at them getting their damn coffees and wearing flip-flops in public and their overpriced clothing worn to impress… shallow and pointless. Scratch them: thereโ€™s nothing deeper, nothing beneath their shiny, carefully polished and practiced surface.

  3. This was very refreshing and fun too, I loved the way you put it….Iโ€™m sure heโ€™s not a bad person or anything like that, but I certainly donโ€™t believe heโ€™s worth saving….. it’s really comic, and good writing. I’m sure you help him out if the hous in fire, and it’s totally ok not to like everybody, AND it’s ok to really dislike people too. Iwish you a very nice Christmas!

  4. I think it’s terrible but I cannot deny that roared in laughter on the treadmill. Couda fell off. That would have been embarrassing but this is great pushes buttons but in an enjoyable way.

  5. This was hard for me to read. At one time my son was drawn to these kind of cunts and I was distraught. I lost him for years to them. There was no resolving the situation though and I had to step back. In time he was potentially this guy and all the creative genius in him was overtaken by drug abuse.

    Things are a little different now, but the past is very recent and raw for me. It is still not my story to tell, but I want to say this… addiction is a fucking bitch. It sucks the life out of everything and any creativity that is inside the addicted gets squashed until it’s unrecognisable. It doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Maybe the cunt next door to you IS an imbecile in plastic shoes, but maybe there’s a novel in him or a magnificent musical masterpiece being stifled in his drug addled brain. Maybe he looks at you and wonders how he can be like you or how he can get back to the boy he was, the one who once wrote an essay so eloquent that it earned him the highest grade in his class. x

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