Damien - in his own words
"I look, but I don’t see
I touch but I don’t feel
It’s Glasgow, that I know, I feel it. The dirt, the grime, the sub-human filth interwoven in layer upon layer of framework that makes this place and I feel how it doesn’t want us, how we are undesired by it, this thing of a city.
We leave with Sam, to do our dirty business. The Artist knows that the Traveller, Billbert, has come again and there is talk. Alice is with him and we decide to meet. Of course I say we, it’s they. I can’t think straight, but I can’t tell if it’s a lack of Alice or a surplus. My head is beating and I know why, but words escape me.
There is a bottle of Magner’s, a favourite cider of mine, a drink I once indulged in before I found a more pure way of living. It is thrown, destroyed, smashing, the parts thrown wild and free, in anger or simply the act of seeing what happens in the destruction of matter?
We meet the Traveller and Alice, in a car park outside McDonalds. God how I sicken of it, but the pretty lights are welcome, they are always welcome. We kind of congregate, and I can stand up straight, quite a feat these days. It’s so much easier to sit down, talk with a friend. I wish I was here. I miss me.
Things aren’t great.
There is talk of Billbert and his new rags. Alice seems to be clothed, the Gothes have given her some threads, that’s pretty fucking clear.
The Pyramid People. Ooooh Sam doesn’t like that, Bilbo isn’t happy but being Sam’s fuckbuddy that’s pretty much par for the course. I load a canister of Slosh, just in case you understand, as it is I’s pretty fucking ready anyway, but strangely it doesn’t come to that.
Christ, it’s hard to tell you what’s going on at the best of times, the colours seem to blur together and the voices. So many voices all demanding attention, I tend to tune them out as well as humanly (HAHA) possible, but we go inside, the Artist has decided for all of us that talking it through is best and to be honest I can see his point.
I’ve lost tack of the happenings next, lots of headology, I don’t really pay attention because I’m so fucking hungry, you have to understand I haven’t eaten in several days so even these shitburgers are pretty fucking good. Billbert is hungry too, as is Bilbo. To calm him down, I give Bilbo a quick draw on one of my great fantastic fags, but it doesn’t seem to agree with him.
But anyway.
After some time, and a lot of going in and out of consciousness by various peeps a letter is produced, a letter from Alice and Sam’s dearest daddy, Mr EddE. To be honest the subtleties are lost on me but I get how they are related, two different girls form different guys on different worlds all caught together, just like us.
But so important, and so vital to how the Mission is going to go down.
It becomes starkly apparent that simple knifings aren’t going to solve shit all so we decide to gloss over the various differences of opinion and go to London, to the Artist’s lab, where its thought the key to doing the Mission and shit is. To be honest, I don’t really think we are up to it, there’s too much foreshadowing of this bastard and How Great He Is, but what the fuck, it’s laugh.
Finally he remembers where his lab is and we go there.
Holy fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
This is the worst place I’ve been in a long time.
Drums in the dark have fuck all on this place.
And there’s a watcher.
I wish I hadn’t looked, but it’s there.
Drums in the dark, It’s dark heart in my head.
Again and again and again.
Make it stop, James, please make it stop, how the fuck is it alive?"
I touch but I don’t feel
It’s Glasgow, that I know, I feel it. The dirt, the grime, the sub-human filth interwoven in layer upon layer of framework that makes this place and I feel how it doesn’t want us, how we are undesired by it, this thing of a city.
We leave with Sam, to do our dirty business. The Artist knows that the Traveller, Billbert, has come again and there is talk. Alice is with him and we decide to meet. Of course I say we, it’s they. I can’t think straight, but I can’t tell if it’s a lack of Alice or a surplus. My head is beating and I know why, but words escape me.
There is a bottle of Magner’s, a favourite cider of mine, a drink I once indulged in before I found a more pure way of living. It is thrown, destroyed, smashing, the parts thrown wild and free, in anger or simply the act of seeing what happens in the destruction of matter?
We meet the Traveller and Alice, in a car park outside McDonalds. God how I sicken of it, but the pretty lights are welcome, they are always welcome. We kind of congregate, and I can stand up straight, quite a feat these days. It’s so much easier to sit down, talk with a friend. I wish I was here. I miss me.
Things aren’t great.
There is talk of Billbert and his new rags. Alice seems to be clothed, the Gothes have given her some threads, that’s pretty fucking clear.
The Pyramid People. Ooooh Sam doesn’t like that, Bilbo isn’t happy but being Sam’s fuckbuddy that’s pretty much par for the course. I load a canister of Slosh, just in case you understand, as it is I’s pretty fucking ready anyway, but strangely it doesn’t come to that.
Christ, it’s hard to tell you what’s going on at the best of times, the colours seem to blur together and the voices. So many voices all demanding attention, I tend to tune them out as well as humanly (HAHA) possible, but we go inside, the Artist has decided for all of us that talking it through is best and to be honest I can see his point.
I’ve lost tack of the happenings next, lots of headology, I don’t really pay attention because I’m so fucking hungry, you have to understand I haven’t eaten in several days so even these shitburgers are pretty fucking good. Billbert is hungry too, as is Bilbo. To calm him down, I give Bilbo a quick draw on one of my great fantastic fags, but it doesn’t seem to agree with him.
But anyway.
After some time, and a lot of going in and out of consciousness by various peeps a letter is produced, a letter from Alice and Sam’s dearest daddy, Mr EddE. To be honest the subtleties are lost on me but I get how they are related, two different girls form different guys on different worlds all caught together, just like us.
But so important, and so vital to how the Mission is going to go down.
It becomes starkly apparent that simple knifings aren’t going to solve shit all so we decide to gloss over the various differences of opinion and go to London, to the Artist’s lab, where its thought the key to doing the Mission and shit is. To be honest, I don’t really think we are up to it, there’s too much foreshadowing of this bastard and How Great He Is, but what the fuck, it’s laugh.
Finally he remembers where his lab is and we go there.
Holy fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
This is the worst place I’ve been in a long time.
Drums in the dark have fuck all on this place.
And there’s a watcher.
I wish I hadn’t looked, but it’s there.
Drums in the dark, It’s dark heart in my head.
Again and again and again.
Make it stop, James, please make it stop, how the fuck is it alive?"