Wednesday, 12 March 2008

Shiina, It Was Almost Something - A Story By Me

I fell hard.

On the slippery floor.

Literally, that's what happened. But I think, in life, this occurance symbolised my life. It symbolises the way I fail regardless of the endeavour. It symbolises the extent to which this happens. It symbolises the sadistic intensity of this occurance, for I fell hard. Hard as life can be.

In this particular case, it was this floor that did bring me down. In the middle of a public area. Oh, oh no. Out went all my dignity, I sat in the moisture like a fool. Very embarassing. I'm panicking. Oh deary me! I run, a shadow of my former rock and roll self, out of the vicinity, and curl up in an alleyway filled with rats. They say this is what punk is all about.

And here I still lie, in this stink pit. What is punk? Punk is about doing it yourself, It's about not compromising to the mainstream, it's about being yourself and not giving a fuck about what anyone thinks of you. So yes. Yes I'm a fool, yes I'm dirt. But I must live my life. Yes, yes! I must live my life!

I run into the streets and scream it. YES I MUST LIVE MY LIFE!!!

I am run over by a beautiful Japanese woman in a big car. She has a big black strip of makeup over her eyes. I am happy. Yes... I... must... live. My. Life.

Years pass. I see a fuzzy image of that women. It haunts me for the years of my coma.

After several years in a coma, I track her down from a phonebook. Her name is Shiina. Shiina Ringo. I roll the name off my tongue. Shiina. Shiina. There's something to this. I know there's something, I'm going to take it to its conclusion!!

I go to her house and thank her for paying for my hospital bills. She claims that she did not do this, but I know she did. I mean I didn't pay for them. Where's my house gone? I can't see shite. Kiss shite. But I ask Shiina out on a date. We have lots of good times. I like her a lot. But she is with another man.

For the umpteeth time, Shiina, I stand outside your house and call to you. "Shiina, it was almost something. And then you went back to him. You crushed what we had. What we had, it was my life's ambition. That love was all I had."

How can you stay, with a dumb bloke. All he'll say is "ulluwululuhul" when you are making love. Ululating. It's onomatopoeia.

Once again, I stand outside your house and call to you. "Would you like to marry me?". She looks out the window. I ripped open my shirt - underneath the phrase "MARRY ME" was emblazoned across my chest in amorous red ink. She ululated. She has never been this aroused by anything. She stands there with wide eyes. Once again I ask "Would you like to marry me?", put on another shirt and ripped it again - now the MARRY ME stared her further in the face with more vigour due to her growing lack of self control and burgeoning desires. She even considered her future.

Shiina, oh Shiina, it was almost something. But that night I walked home with a red slap on my cheek and a wet pair of boxers.

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