Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Peggy Lee
(Read what came before)
Is that all there is? Causing avalanches with dynamite to annihilate helpless villagers? Emptying thousands of rounds into the Siberian countryside, obliterating forests that have stood for thousands of years? Drinking grain alcohol by the liter, and consuming more opium than all of Shanghai? Witnessing the most depraved acts ever conceived by man or beast, performed by individuals of questionable gender?
I confess, I am bored.
Every day, I wake up, beat the servants, take in brunch with my son, attempt to kill him, set off explosives, scream obscenities while I wander the campground naked with several liquor bottles strapped to my body with leather belts, lunch, fornication with something or someone, more drinking, vomiting, dinner, opium.
Every day.
It didn’t always used to be like this; as a child I was a firebrand, a prodigy. Even as a boy, the adults around me were terrified of me, and with good reason. At boarding school, I was a champion in the fighting pits, lauded and feared in equal measure. I left school ready to conquer the world, to remake and rejuvenate it. What I found was an empire of bored degenerates and terrified peasants. My passion and dreams meant nothing to fools such as these. They drifted, played out their roles, did as they were told. I could have been emperor, but emperor of what? I could have been poet or painter, but who would listen? Who would see or understand; who would care? It would have been pearls before swine.
So I began to drift, and found it pleasing. Those who don’t know can never understand the profound beauty and simplicity of inertia, to simply exist without past or future. So I exist still. And what next? Where does this lead? Will I ever believe in anything again?
Bah. This melancholia leads nowhere. Where is my bottle? Where is my pipe? Where are my guns? Where is Consuela?
Is that all there is? Causing avalanches with dynamite to annihilate helpless villagers? Emptying thousands of rounds into the Siberian countryside, obliterating forests that have stood for thousands of years? Drinking grain alcohol by the liter, and consuming more opium than all of Shanghai? Witnessing the most depraved acts ever conceived by man or beast, performed by individuals of questionable gender?
I confess, I am bored.
Every day, I wake up, beat the servants, take in brunch with my son, attempt to kill him, set off explosives, scream obscenities while I wander the campground naked with several liquor bottles strapped to my body with leather belts, lunch, fornication with something or someone, more drinking, vomiting, dinner, opium.
Every day.
It didn’t always used to be like this; as a child I was a firebrand, a prodigy. Even as a boy, the adults around me were terrified of me, and with good reason. At boarding school, I was a champion in the fighting pits, lauded and feared in equal measure. I left school ready to conquer the world, to remake and rejuvenate it. What I found was an empire of bored degenerates and terrified peasants. My passion and dreams meant nothing to fools such as these. They drifted, played out their roles, did as they were told. I could have been emperor, but emperor of what? I could have been poet or painter, but who would listen? Who would see or understand; who would care? It would have been pearls before swine.
So I began to drift, and found it pleasing. Those who don’t know can never understand the profound beauty and simplicity of inertia, to simply exist without past or future. So I exist still. And what next? Where does this lead? Will I ever believe in anything again?
Bah. This melancholia leads nowhere. Where is my bottle? Where is my pipe? Where are my guns? Where is Consuela?
posted by Dash Bradley at 2:38 PM
1 Comments:
Dear, I wish you'd take better care of yourself. Cavendish has been talking; he says you've developed an odor.
And you didn't notice his failure to properly clean the skins he sewed together for your coat. Haven't you wondered why the neighborhood dogs have been following you home? He did that on purpose, you know. He laughs every time.
As for Consuela, your home has been eerily silent. Are you quite certain she hasn't double-crossed you and taken sides with your sister?
Post a Comment
<< Home