Cold hard poo.

I found myself on a metro today sat between a couple who used me as a go-between due to some dispute they were having regarding rice.
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I haven’t really but I’m watching The Beach and DiCaprio’s putting up with it so I thought I’d Mind-Mime along with him.

Anyway, as I promised, back to my encounter of the morbid obsessive kind.

The bag is just sitting there.
It’s stopped moving and I’m the only one breathing hard for it’s negative vibe. Everyone else might aswell have seen an ice cream truck on a hot day.
I didn’t know what to think at that point and I certainly didn’t know or want to know the thing I should say that would most fit in. To be honest, I just got a shiver and carried on. I don’t think I’d thought enough, before hand, to know what I should be shocked by at that point. Phone man spots the shiver, turns and gives me a wide-eyed ear-to-ear smile and we carry on. Disapointed ? I was, with myself. Nevermind.

Now, the opening is where I shit myself.
There was no careful procedure. Another thing I’d never really considered. They like dead things and the process that goes into it. Not only do they not care if they cut it but they really don’t mind at all if it had a gash up from it’s eye to it’s eye. They had certainly changed at that point to being those people. Even the couple who I’d only sort of looked on as a nudist beach couple were now vampire rapists sitting there salivating like a horror movie waiting to happen. It got dark.

On goes the U.V.
This happened for safety reasons. They worry that it’s not completely ‘gone’ and so they have to check what’s really going on from an initial visual perspective straight away. God knows what they do to get a hold of it in the first place but fuck knows I’d be sure it was pretty damn ‘gone’ before bagging it. This doesn’t take long and the lights are all back up. It must look strange from ouside the church hall, like some kind of late-night tanning session in the vestry.

Another thing I should note.
I’ve seen horror movies and fake blood but the only first-hand blood event I’ve witnessed, before this, is my own nose bleeding and minor cuts. Nose blood just looks like a drop of tomatoe juice and feels nothing more than a leak, like urinating, it just goes out of you because it does and that’s how you work. Even if you cut yourself, you don’t see the loss of the red liquid as anything more than a threat of staining or minor inconveniance. Not until you see something yellow and blue in it’s face because of it’s sad lack of blood and you find yourself surrounded by the swarm of smells eminating because of ambient heat.

The story sadly ends.
Well, I say sadly, I was hoping something would have happened to get in the way of me and the bag lady.

The thing that happened was the police, I’m assuming. We all got rushed out by the couple who seemed quite prepared and were packed up and standing first. I was told when the next get-together was, a meeting of around 2000 similar people in a jamberee style camping event. All very blurry and quite frightening. I don’t think I’ll be back in touch with them eveer again and don’t plan to look any further into this subject.

Oh well there ends my story. More next time etc

I found an advert in the newspaper yesterday.

It basically said that a Necrophelia Society club was wishing to recruit a new Special Events Coordinator. Obviously, not being qualified to be any kind of coordinator and not wishing to apply myself to such a commitment, I didn’t repond to the advertisement. I did however decide to contact them and enquire after their next meeting. The person I got in contact with initially was in fact working for the recruitment agency who had organised the advert but they soon gave me the phone number of the club’s most senior member who seemed excited at the prospect of a new member joining. After a short chat and a nonchalant run down of the chronologically ordered reasons for my interest in Necrophelia, I was on the way to becoming a member of their society.

Wednesday came and by 7pm I was in front of the church hall waiting for everyone else to turn up for the show. The first member to arrive was, well I’ll call him Fred for possible legal reasons, Fred, wearing a black hoodie, black corduroy trousers and some (Guess, guess, guess, guess.) black New Rocks. Having expected a dark atmos, i was wearing my ‘devils’ hoodie, some black jeans, a Nirvana ‘Bleach’ t-shirt and some navy Docs. I still didn’t feel like I was fitting in however, having been away from the depths of Korn since the age of 16 and an avid fan of Radiohead for quite some time I felt musically vanilla next to his graphic Cannibal Corpse ‘Kill’ t-shirt.

Minor differences asside, me and Fred obviously live in around the same area (although an elderly couple did turn up around 15 minutes later, from Warrington, outside of Manchester). He also seemed to have seemingly carbon-coded interests in gaming (it doesn’t take a genius to see the greatness of the all-powerfull shigeru miyamoto) and a similar university degree going on but I’ll not go into all that.
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I’m eating cheese on crackers at the moment and I’ve been talking with my friends Glen and Richard on msn messenger. I have just started a shiny new blog and it’s not my first. This is it and I find it’s always difficult starting them. That’s why I’ve decided on starting with just observing and sounding slightly childish. Don’t worry it will get better. See, I’ve even addressed the audience and i’ve now began the process of making your brain think that I’m an interesting person with thoughts, problems of my own, friends that I care about and, above all, opinions and observations of my own life that are of interest to you. There, getting a tiny bit more intelligent as I progress and let go, slipping into my slightly automatic but all me-controlled textual mind. You are welcome inside it and may view and freely describe it as you please, to me, to yourself, in any way you find necessary or meaningful.

I am not writing this as I think it, however, and as such may come off as sounding as though i ‘know what I’m talking about’. If you disagree with or think anything I have written is stupid you’re welcome to criticise but you will also fall into the textual trap of not writing what you are thinking.

I’m not sure Ive came across how I want. I think I’ll rewrite this.

See you soon,

Daniel