from irvine welsh’s the acid house:
A GOOD SON
He was a good son, and like all good sons, he really loved his mother. In fact, he completely worshipped the woman.
Yet he couldn’t make love to her; not with his father sitting there, watching them.
He got out of bed and threw a dressing-gown around his self-conscious nakedness. As he passed his father on the way out of the room, he heard the old man say: Aye Oedipus, yir a complex fucker right enough.
THE CRUEL BASTARD AND THE SELFISH FUCKER GET IT ON
She was a cruel bastard; he was a selfish fucker. They literally bumped into each other one night in a Grassmarket pub. They were vaguely acquainted from somewhere neither could remember. Or at least that was what they told themselves and eachother.
She was highly insulting, but he didn’t mind as he was indiffereint to everything except the eighty shilling he was tipping down his throat. They decided to go back to her place for a shag. He didn’t have a place of his own; as his parents did everything for him, he saw little point in getting one.
Sitting up in bed, she watched him undressing. Her face hardened in a contemptuous scowl as he removed his purple boxer-shorts — Who dae ye expect tae satisfy wi that? she asked
— Masel, he said, getting into bed beside her.
After the event, she bitterly disparaged his performance with a vitriol which would have torn the fragile sexual ego of most men to shreds. He scarcely heard a word she said. His final thoughts as he drifted into a drunken sleep were concerned with breakfast. He hoped she had plenty of provisions in and that she made a good fry-up.
Within a few weeks they were living together. People say it seems to be working out.
LOTS OF LAUGHTER AND SEX
You said, when we embarked on this great adventure together, that lots of laughter was essential in a relationship.
I agreed.
You also made the point that a great deal of sex was of equal importance.
Again, I agreed. Wholeheartedly.
In fact I remember your exact words: laugher and sex are the barometers of a relationship. This was the statement you made, if I remember correctly.
Don’t get me wrong. I couldn’t agree more. But not at the same time, ya fuckin’ cow.
ROBERT K. LAIRD: A SEXUAL HISTORY
Rab’s nivir hud a ride in ehs puff; perr wee cunt. Disnae seem too bothered, mind you.
BOOKWORM
i am once again bookless. it is highly unfortunate. i finished i am the cheese in less than a day. it was wonderously fantastical, and i devoured it thusly. so good, but far too brief. i mean, the story ended, but i was without.
sometimes i wish my metabolism was as ravenously productive as my appetite for reading. if i could process all the stuff that makes me a complete cow as quickly and efficiently as i devour words, sentences, paragraphs, fantasy, fiction, escape.
anyway, having officially read the last book in my possession that i have yet to read; this morning i scrounged around and totally stole a book from my roommate. it tastes better because it’s not mine… tee hee! anyway, of the trainspotting ilk (in fact, by irving welsh), the acid house is thus far fantastic. although i’m having a bit of trouble with the vernacular such that it is. bloody fuckin’ scottish brouge. bastards.
however, in the hopes of keeping myself further supplied with a stash of delicious literature, i finally — finally — signed up and got myself a boston public library card. it’s uber convenient that a BPL is located just around the corner from my office. ya know, at first, it seems like i don’t work in a very spiffy locale. but the longer i’m there — and the more i avoid creepy autistic boy — the more i’m growing to like it. it’s convenient to so many things.
R.I.P. DVD
alas, it’s sad but true…last night, at approximately oh fuck me-o’ clock my beloved dvd player kicked the bucket. unruly fucker. and we tried everything, the boy made a valliant effort to rip it to pieces in the hopes of making it functional again. alas. alas, alas, alack!
but you know what this means, right?
electronics shopping! weee!
HEARTBREAK
god damn it all! so today scooter finally looked it up…the godless heathen state of massachusetts does not recognize common-law marriages.
we are living in sin! oh noes!!!! so much for shackin’ up and gettin’ myself a little wifey. god damned godless heathen state.
EARGASM
the boy bought me a billie holiday collection. ::teh swoon:: i am overjoyed with musical glee…in my pants… heh. perhaps if i’m feeling productive and such, i may upload it for online broadcasting. i’ll consider it.
