Friday, 26 June 2009

RIP Michael Jackson

Man...this heat’s a killer. It’s coming in heavy through my living room window. I feel like a bug under a magnifying glass in all this heat. The headcase below me’s having a fit. Most days – he’s some sort of living a breathing miracle – he starts up on something around 9am and won’t draw breath till 10pm. On and on he goes, ranting and raving. Tabulating all the times someone’s crossed him. His da stays over sometimes on the couch. He’s from the high-rise across the street. Sometimes him downstairs goes to stay with him. I had the da up there a week or so ago looking for some tobacco of me. I noticed he’d a scar on his forehead. I asked him what happened. He told me Otis (that’s what I’ll call him) was staying with him for a while, then a couple of weeks ago, after they’d had their tea, Otis starts in on all this violent talk saying what he’d do on someone if they crossed him. So the da says he’s had enough and doesn’t want to hear all his fucked up stuff. He gets up to go to the kitchen and make a cup of tea and Otis comes up behind him and drops one of those portable iron radiators on his head. Da tells me he brings it down on him again and again and he crawls into the corner in a vain attempt to shield his head. Somehow he got away and got himself to hospital. He didn’t press charges and the police advised him Otis needed committed somewhere. I know I’ll be keeping my distance anyway. I remember I had him up one afternoon. I thought up till that point he was ESN (Educationally Subnormal) but he surprised me because I thought he was sharp enough. The amount he knows about guns is astonishing. Apparently if you go to shoot someone with a 9mm, with the intention of killing them, it is best to stand at a distance of 10 foot or more from them. The reason for this is that 9mm bullets have a copper coating and therefore pass through the target if shot at close range. Standing from the target 10 feet or more away usually results in the bullet bouncing around inside the target hitting many vital organs. Coring he called it. But honestly, if you were to transcribe every word he’d ever spoken, and all the words anyone had ever spoken and ranked them, from the most to the fewest he’d be well up there in the top 10 I’m sure. The boy never fucks up.

Me and my pal Sweeney were heading up the road today when I noticed a thing that has intrigued me for years. That is letters missing from shop signs. Sweeney reckons someone’s using them to write a giant ransom letter.

Was going to hold back on the videos for a while, but in light of Wacko dying I’m gonna put one of his up.

RIP Jacko ---- young actors/dancers etc the world over can unclench their taught little sphincters now.

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