Post story telling #1 (We must catch up)
I'm batman.
The world is a far, far rosier and brighter place compared to last week; it's true to say that my predicament is practically identical, time is a great healer though, don't you think? I felt so riled and hurt that I had to internally chew and digest on my brains patterned thoughts in an attempt to reach a state where I could actually talk to people about the painful goings on of the last week. I acknowledge the fact that my behaviour is an antithesis to the more standard reaction to affliction and anguish whereby a person can only feel better by getting things off their chest by making use of varying states such as tearfullness, anger and also disbelief. They will unload these emotions onto their nearest and dearest -Rightfully so in my opinion- until they have cried, talked and screamed all the negativity out in a short term purge. I tend to suppress the emotion which means not thinking about it, definitely not talking about an incident until a few days have passed. A cooling off, containment period as it were. Why fight the enemy head on when they're freshest and at their most strong?
Enough
The Rave
No less than 2 Saturdays ago was the day I had been looking forward to all week. Rave day! As standard nobody really had a clue as to the location of the rave, having a mobile voice mail box number to ring at 21:00 on the night. I felt tense in the hours leading up during the day, mainly due to the situation I knew I was going to find myself in later. You see, on this night I was the lynchpin of the main group of people that was made up of 3 separate groups of people whose only connection to all the other groups was my good self. Add this to the fact that one of these groups was made up of friends I knew at college and hadn't really spoken to in over a year or two and another group was made up of the girl I met at the bus stop and her mates. (See "Whacky Wednesday" entry for full details of this tale) Nobody was punctual to the arranged meeting stop and so I found myself underneath the railway arch opposite the Thirsty scholar drinking a 70cl bottle of Sainsbury's white rum that I had lifted earlier in the day. The first character that approached me was a late twenties scally type individual. He had the haggard face of someone who did too many drugs, a bit like that guy from Heartbeat with the acne scars. A light was what he wanted and was something I could not provide. However, I enjoyed eyeing up the rollie in his hand and decided to walk alongside him, striking up enough chat to give me legitimate access to his bind. As we walked in search of a light, without even pausing in his stride he bent down and grabbed a half empty lager bottle off the steps near revolution and started to unashamedly swig from it. That could have been a Tramps Pissing pot mate! We exchanged alcohol for cigarettes. He kept going on about how long a cheque would take to clear. Oh, and about how great crack and smack were............
I went back to my standing place under the bridge, still no one had arrived. I'd been making conversation on and off with the bouncer for the scholar. He was stony faced but wasn't entirely brain dead and catatonic and so remnants of a conversation transpired in which he almost smiled. I foolishly viewed him as an ally against the world until he started acting all big and hard when his bouncer friend arrived.
"Does your mother know you're out dressed like that?"
'Er, no.... She's in Bury'
"Good, 'cause you look like a right cunt"
Tee hee hee.
I was wearing a white shirt with vertical stripey lines, some sawn off jean shorts with a rancid patch. (not my pants or patch) Ok, so I was wearing coloured, stripey, odd socks but it was till uncalled for. The DJ inside the pub was the Manc from ritz who doesn't have long hair. It was a fuckin' rock night anyway. How dare I be abused! Fuckin' bouncers. Talk about the sex divide on display to the max.
'oh, you're a girl in a short skirt that I have no fucking chance with anyway but because i'm a big hard bouncer I think women love me. They're not being all huggy and friendly because I have power that I can, and often do, abuse. They love me, not because I get free entry. They'd talk to me if I was in civilian clothes'
Wake up you fat, empty headed, drug peddling, conversation starved Gimpanzees. You get your kicks out of treating all other non-boucner men like shit because you can twat "everyone." Oh except when a gang decides to have a pop and you shit your pants. Someone take an uzi to Jilly's and mow down the short, mouthy one with jet black hair. He barred me for opening a door. Yep, opening a door. The main entrance to the club where everyone walks through. You figure it out.
Anyhoo, I went back to my spot across from that nasty little bouncer man and i'm still tucking into my delicious rum. A middle aged, rough looking guy approaches from the left carrying lots of shopping bags, placing himself down on the raised platform. I think he was Scottish.
"ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" he shouts at me whilst making the 'drinky drinky' motion.
I pretend to ignore as I find this to be an extremely rude way of requesting something that isn't yours off someone you've neevr even met before or even greeted with a courteous hello.
"ayyyyyyyyyyyyy" he shouts, repeating the same action.
'what? what do you want?'
"drink"
'Oh, you mean you want some of this drink?'
"yes"
'Now, what do you say' said in a patronising, teacher-esque tone
"please, thank you, oh please"
I moved towards him, deciding to grant him the priviledge. He chatted some bollocks abotu his wife which I mainly ignored. The man was sort of half collapsed on this ledge. Suddenly, he leaps up, bends his back over with his head facing my mid rif and charges me in the stomach! I immediately dodge causing him to fall to the floor spilling his shopping everywhere. The pathetic creature then starts whining and calling me over
"come help me, come help me"
er, no. I'm quite charitable but you took the piss there mate.
Ah, the lirbary is shutting. more on this story next time.
The world is a far, far rosier and brighter place compared to last week; it's true to say that my predicament is practically identical, time is a great healer though, don't you think? I felt so riled and hurt that I had to internally chew and digest on my brains patterned thoughts in an attempt to reach a state where I could actually talk to people about the painful goings on of the last week. I acknowledge the fact that my behaviour is an antithesis to the more standard reaction to affliction and anguish whereby a person can only feel better by getting things off their chest by making use of varying states such as tearfullness, anger and also disbelief. They will unload these emotions onto their nearest and dearest -Rightfully so in my opinion- until they have cried, talked and screamed all the negativity out in a short term purge. I tend to suppress the emotion which means not thinking about it, definitely not talking about an incident until a few days have passed. A cooling off, containment period as it were. Why fight the enemy head on when they're freshest and at their most strong?
Enough
The Rave
No less than 2 Saturdays ago was the day I had been looking forward to all week. Rave day! As standard nobody really had a clue as to the location of the rave, having a mobile voice mail box number to ring at 21:00 on the night. I felt tense in the hours leading up during the day, mainly due to the situation I knew I was going to find myself in later. You see, on this night I was the lynchpin of the main group of people that was made up of 3 separate groups of people whose only connection to all the other groups was my good self. Add this to the fact that one of these groups was made up of friends I knew at college and hadn't really spoken to in over a year or two and another group was made up of the girl I met at the bus stop and her mates. (See "Whacky Wednesday" entry for full details of this tale) Nobody was punctual to the arranged meeting stop and so I found myself underneath the railway arch opposite the Thirsty scholar drinking a 70cl bottle of Sainsbury's white rum that I had lifted earlier in the day. The first character that approached me was a late twenties scally type individual. He had the haggard face of someone who did too many drugs, a bit like that guy from Heartbeat with the acne scars. A light was what he wanted and was something I could not provide. However, I enjoyed eyeing up the rollie in his hand and decided to walk alongside him, striking up enough chat to give me legitimate access to his bind. As we walked in search of a light, without even pausing in his stride he bent down and grabbed a half empty lager bottle off the steps near revolution and started to unashamedly swig from it. That could have been a Tramps Pissing pot mate! We exchanged alcohol for cigarettes. He kept going on about how long a cheque would take to clear. Oh, and about how great crack and smack were............
I went back to my standing place under the bridge, still no one had arrived. I'd been making conversation on and off with the bouncer for the scholar. He was stony faced but wasn't entirely brain dead and catatonic and so remnants of a conversation transpired in which he almost smiled. I foolishly viewed him as an ally against the world until he started acting all big and hard when his bouncer friend arrived.
"Does your mother know you're out dressed like that?"
'Er, no.... She's in Bury'
"Good, 'cause you look like a right cunt"
Tee hee hee.
I was wearing a white shirt with vertical stripey lines, some sawn off jean shorts with a rancid patch. (not my pants or patch) Ok, so I was wearing coloured, stripey, odd socks but it was till uncalled for. The DJ inside the pub was the Manc from ritz who doesn't have long hair. It was a fuckin' rock night anyway. How dare I be abused! Fuckin' bouncers. Talk about the sex divide on display to the max.
'oh, you're a girl in a short skirt that I have no fucking chance with anyway but because i'm a big hard bouncer I think women love me. They're not being all huggy and friendly because I have power that I can, and often do, abuse. They love me, not because I get free entry. They'd talk to me if I was in civilian clothes'
Wake up you fat, empty headed, drug peddling, conversation starved Gimpanzees. You get your kicks out of treating all other non-boucner men like shit because you can twat "everyone." Oh except when a gang decides to have a pop and you shit your pants. Someone take an uzi to Jilly's and mow down the short, mouthy one with jet black hair. He barred me for opening a door. Yep, opening a door. The main entrance to the club where everyone walks through. You figure it out.
Anyhoo, I went back to my spot across from that nasty little bouncer man and i'm still tucking into my delicious rum. A middle aged, rough looking guy approaches from the left carrying lots of shopping bags, placing himself down on the raised platform. I think he was Scottish.
"ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" he shouts at me whilst making the 'drinky drinky' motion.
I pretend to ignore as I find this to be an extremely rude way of requesting something that isn't yours off someone you've neevr even met before or even greeted with a courteous hello.
"ayyyyyyyyyyyyy" he shouts, repeating the same action.
'what? what do you want?'
"drink"
'Oh, you mean you want some of this drink?'
"yes"
'Now, what do you say' said in a patronising, teacher-esque tone
"please, thank you, oh please"
I moved towards him, deciding to grant him the priviledge. He chatted some bollocks abotu his wife which I mainly ignored. The man was sort of half collapsed on this ledge. Suddenly, he leaps up, bends his back over with his head facing my mid rif and charges me in the stomach! I immediately dodge causing him to fall to the floor spilling his shopping everywhere. The pathetic creature then starts whining and calling me over
"come help me, come help me"
er, no. I'm quite charitable but you took the piss there mate.
Ah, the lirbary is shutting. more on this story next time.
posted by Swedophilia at 7:33 PM
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