An Original Sinner …..living in a world where the more flawed you were the greater there was a chance for salvation, was not without its issue. As a Roman Catholic child we were told in no uncertain terms that we had to be forgiven and without that forgiveness there was no point to any of it …So we were asked to be good ….however then when we were good it meant utter scorn …The mechanism for this confusion came via the act of confession ….as a seven yr old boy I truly believed I was good …but it was frowned by all to be that good …faced with damnation for not sinning and shame upon the family name for not being a good sinner …I found myself confessing to horrible atrocities in order that I could be contrite and forgiven … seated in the darkness the priest in laconic mid Atlantic brogue asked if I wanted forgiveness ..In truth I didn’t ,as I have said I was good …but I had to toe the line ….”.yes father I have been a shocking awful sinner “…and so began my litany of pillaging ,thievery,arson ,blasphemy and coveting….The priest was truly shocked at one so young being so evil ..but he was delighted to grant me absolution in the vain hope I would mend my ways …but no the church at that time did not like a redeemed sinner …so my visits to the confessional increased and on two occasions I was responsible for three bank robberies ….slowly I was the church of The Three Patrons favourite sinner ….. The only twist to all this absolution and remorse was when I happened to meet my confessor in public places he would cast a wary eye on me in full knowledge he could never tell anyone of the awful horrid heinous crimes I performed in my brogue shoes and pudding bowl haircut …..and so on my deathbed I will have to face St Peter all the angels and several saints ,perhaps cassius and explain that I was” a shocking awful sinner”,yes so inept and miserable that I had to invent every misdemeanour venal or other and my guilt was a sham …..
Monthly Archives: February 2014
Having spent most of my youth reading a combination of john Le carre, Louis L’Amour and Gogol…I was not in anyway equipped for what was to become the imperative concerns of my hormonal fuelled adolescence…I believed like Albert camus I was an outsider and this much lauded time of loss of innocence greeted me with an amount of Darwinen curiosity and mechanical ineptitude …I was given to believe from numerous Sunday viewings of “Ryans Daughter”, there was to be an amount of pleasure derived from the heavy handed fumbling that all courtships could necessitate…cinematography cleverly never afforded one the chance to understand how these wondrous encounter might happen…and given my own unfamiliarity with the hidden regions of the human landscape it was bound to require an amount of improvisation….The fumble seemed to be the main vehicle to these treasures of physical delight …I will point out that authors on this subject have used an amount of artistic licence …The few early encounters will ladies resembled a marx brothers style grappling and on several occasions we were reduced to asking for assistance as my journey through the undergarment reduced us both immobile …Both unfamiliar with the culmination of these encounters we smiled as we lay on the fresh cut grass of an underpass or verge of a motorway roundabout…..panting sweating and flushed truly believing the confounded fumbling rather than fondling were truly what foreplay involved and in a clever ruse the forbidden fruit tasted less of mango and more of an unripe pear…neither of us ever resorted to poking or pulling at the nether regions satisfied with our progressions with the aid of looser garments…..
In this paradise he had created a perfection so fine and beautiful it hurt to think of its wonder …it’s beauty corrupted all that was good ….and in the insecurity that true beauty causes he began to doubt the eternity of his construction …and so that to whom he submitted began to withdraw …if you are as omnipotent as my mind has imagined why do you not reveal yourself why do you not act upon the multitude which we have you create ….cracks appeared and the less insidious doubt over ran its dominant cousin Fear …the man in his paradise began to feel the shift in power ..the devolution challenged his evolution ….the world was handed back to the child who had imagined this great presence ….and so limbo and purgatory collapsed ….the tortured innocents began to return …one by one they fell. and he was now faced with a delegated burden of his imagined master ….
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Glistening red ,crimson dripping with dull plopping I stood framed by the rotten daylight of this turbulent day …eyes lifted to greet my defiant arrival at the bracelets for beginners workshop… Barbara aghast split an endless cascade of turquoise glass beads ….Diane looked to me with utter disappointment ….she placed a gentle hand on the shoulders of those who feared the worst …”Maurice what have you done ?….please tell me what could possibly have happened …she’s manoeuvred her self into a more aggressive stance. ,it was clear to all that this was the crisis. a tipping point , a moment of no return ….at the table the bull nose pliers disappeared like rats in a grain silo when the door is opened ….my head lifted …eyes bloodshot from days playing can’t crush …I knew that perhaps I was in that difficult place …..my dry mouth breathed the first most difficult words “I have been bad …very bad …I am truly truly ashamed of myself “….I had everyone’s attention now …”Maurice it is over now …what is done cannot be undone can you step outside and we will begin to find a way through this carnage ..can you do that for me Maurice?”….I looked at her ..”yes Maurice I know your are in a difficult place now …we will find a way “…….under her breathe she whispered whoever left out the poster paints ..I told you this would happen ……bloody Maurice and his biblical melodrama …he is not I repeat allowed near the paint cupboard”…..
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You are the light and have been wrested from the dark fury of the sky ..you leave your fate in to large hands …breathless and confused you can but just rest …..A voice mutters to you and soon the words reach you …You can not fly forever …It will come to an end ..The sky is yours today …however …there is a tomorrow that is on its way to you ..this will become a day …on this day no wingbeat no effort will return you to the sky …The hand leaves you on a windsill …The voice now soothes you ..until that day comes it is all yours fly as high as you dare ……for now you sleep ..aching and worn
Despite my every effort to make myself presentable …it just was not going to happen …the hairdresser had asked me to leave as her scissors had blunted ….and the lady at the “fights the the seven stages of aging ” ….she screamed I approached ….Pure dental services …in a panicked state suggested they would not being taking on new patients till 2067….my defeat was evident from the mess I had made of my tie ….resigned to the fact it might just be a dog day…I hurried to The Curator Cafe …they had always been generous with their compliments …I approached Mattel….How do I look ? ….in his heavy accented English…he offered to bring my coffee outside ….”Maurice You are a dappled dawn drawn Falcon this morning’s minion however upon reflection you may need to remain out of direct sunlight ”
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