Dec 8
Five warrior bikers on their way into the café stopped on the footpath, and they too turned towards the car as we slid away, their faces expressionless; massive men, armour plated under their jackets, brutal men, fear mongers.
The esteem in which he was nevertheless held by the Hawaiians resulted in his body being retained by their chiefs and elders. Following the practice of the time, Cook's body underwent funerary rituals similar to those reserved for the chiefs and highest elders of the society. The body was disembowelled, baked to facilitate removal of the flesh, and the bones were carefully cleaned for preservation as religious icons in a fashion somewhat reminiscent of the treatment of European saints in the Middle Ages.
He’s using the grill of a Chrysler 300/300c as a grill top, which makes sense, and for his pans he’s got a couple of full moon hubcaps, nicely chromed.
‘ Have a f.cken look at this will yez! Those f.cken c.nts must live up to their ears in shit to be able to make a f.cken mess like this. F.cken dunno why the f.cken committee keeps f.cken doin’ this, all they f.cken do is f.cken break every f.cken thing every f.cken time. C.nts! '
Ray had no schedules; he would to wander in and out of building commitments as often as the weather changed and he was fearsomely unapologetic for missed appointments and delivery times
Down it went, and up he stood trying to negate the damage - It crackled he said, and I could hear the flesh tearing. Good old dave, always one for histrionics when faced with an immediate dismemberment.
victor borge - 'occasionally, a finger comes up to wipe a tear [of laughter] from the eye... and that's my reward' - this does it every time.
How his bed smells in the mornings, and his clothes are always stained. His mind is loosening so quickly now and his conversation rambles here and there, flicking between fiction and reality, and he drinks far too much, every day.
And after they have gone Max’s father patrols the dark streets and collects his own collateral, dumped surfboards. He usually collects a couple each year, and after three years of hard looking he found what looked like an old MP Fangtail, ridden to the death, but still in one yellowed and bruised piece.
some music in almost un-listenable, excruciating, tuneless, repetitive, unimaginative, insulting, juvenile, over the top, experimental, punishing, metronomic, pulselike, pianos being played like guitars, unbearable, rubbish, altogether MINIMALIST.
enjoy ...
Frank introduced us to the River the day after we took him home from the Harrington pub, the day he had been beaten insensible by the three dark men who had travelled up from Sydney looking for the local plantation. Three bikers.
How they roamed up to him did these fellows when their unpredicted veer bisected the boy’s solitary path and they, wordless and all but stinking with rejection and loss, looked at him hot, and wordless, like a lover.
They all watched me as I left the building, dozens of them standing around their bikes with their women, but I sensed a respect as we drove away, for the violent have always deferred to the daft.
They had been drinking all day that day and he had sent her over to the bottle shop for a few bottles to take home, and the long bump under the back wheel outside the drive-in bottle shop as he backed in was too soft to be a ramp
The boy would lay naked on his bed reading of the woman’s life of appeasement and subjugation. He had a jar of Vaseline by the bedside that he used to facilitate his daylong masturbation sessions.
Her once clear eyes long blinded by cataracts, her memory ruthlessly scoured by Alzheimers, her legs sodden with a gangrenous discharge that had confounded him for weeks - she would clasp his warm hand with her own cold and taloned claw the instant he laid it down softly by her side.
Sometimes we followed him a little way along to the first ledge before losing our enthusiasm. Lester though would amble along the airy ledge and swing down on one of the steel bars that led to another lower level
Mick Wright ran a caryard in Sydenham, twenty sale units in the lot, all repossessed, and he remembered the silent beard with an army kitbag who paid cash for the ’65 Bedford in 1974.
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