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.

Here’s what I can remember of the conversation we had. I’ll miss out the repitition of me passing on their sentences to each other so as not to irritate.

Woman: For god’s sake, <Man’s name>, would you tell him to stop.
Man: Do you really have to do that?
Woman: He’s talking to you. Stop repeating us.
Man: Just stop talking. Wait til we get to our stop.
Woman: OK we’ll just shut up then.

I thought they were both on the way to some sort of protest because their clothes were all made of recycled diy materials like sandpaper and wood. I pointed out the problematic constitution of their clothing but they started speaking in French when I realised I’d boarded a plane, drunk, and was talking to a man advertising cabin-pressurised pneumatic black & decker tools and their dual uses as both emergency aero-planing devices and legal self-defence weapons.
By the time I’d worked all of this out I’d already engrosed myself in the in-flight movie for several minutes while failing to realise I was still on the train.

woman: I wonder why he’d done that. Maybe he’s got some form of tourettes or something.
man: Oh fucking fanny bollocks he’s started again.

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.
This may seem a little late on but I’d just like to stress I’m not actually interested or affiliated with any of the society’s members or interests. I was mearly so utterly intrigued by the idea of a club openly dealing with such a concept looked down on by the rest of society I had to go to one of their meetings to find out for myself how they would act in a comfortable environment surrounded by like-minded people.
Back to the meeting.
After Fred, the senior member I had spoke with earlier on the phone arrived and, after apologising to Fred and me for his lateness and welcoming me to my first night, let us in to the church hall.
Inside was like any other brown and cream colourd wood-covered church hall. ugly and uncomfortable looking orange moulded plastic chairs had been set out in a circle and for reasons unknown, one of the member was already inside. I’d assumed he’d had a key and at one point asked why he hadn’t let us in before but he seemed to only speak bad French and never seemed to be part of the night’s events or be of particular help to anyone. I can only assume now that he was possibly a homeless person that had broken in regularly.

The first event of the night involved everyone introducing themselves. As this blog is quite long already I’ll not go into too much detail. Suffice to say, there was me, Fred, phone-man, elderly mancunian couple, three embarassed students and an elderly fragile old man. One thing I will note now, before getting into the meat of the night’s activities, is the tallest of the students, similarly dressed to Fred, had all sorts of body cavities filled with hollow plastic rods and metal objects of all shapes and sizes. He even had a forked tongue which he showed me he could seperate and plow one side with the other to the amusement of the room. His was probably the most entertaining introduction but thank god phone-man convinced him not to show us his meatotomy. By now, he should be all the way down to a subincision but I’ll not go into the details of what I’ve just said. If you really want to you can try the internet for some info and probably find some interesting people along the way.

Second event, bring in the bag.
This is where we really got down to what we were here for but we had to talk about it theoretically before putting it into practice. That’s where Annie came in to play. A plastic resuscitation doll I was familiar with from my days as a training lifeguard. Here, at a point where we had got to know each other enough to start to bond with ourselves as necro’s (the groups kitschy name they’d decided to call themselves), the group discussed their preferences, using the doll as a reference and sometimes physical partner, in the case of the mancunian couple.

After this ‘hilarious’ and surprisingly lively section of the night, phone-man toted in ‘the bag’ as it had been referred to throughout the night to everyones praise and awe. The bag, from the way it stretched and deformed under it’s contents seemed to hold something that weighed more than you’d expect for it’s size. Hmm it’s gettin late I’ll finish this blog tomorrow.

I’ll get to tell you the bit where one of the students shot a rifle into the bag until it stopped it’s sudden wriggling and everyone’s agreement afterwards that it was now ’sexy’.

See you there.

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