Jesus Jackson

Not many things could have aroused me from my blogging hibernation - well, nothing has until now.

Michael Jackson is dead.

Sorry Wacko fans but, it was rather inevitable. I am sure there are squillions of people in the world who are really sad - I'm not one of them but, they feel some connection I do not share.

I was watching the coverage of the story on CNN with a Gothic curiosity and was beguiled by the reporters. I particularly liked the one stationed outside the house in Bel Air who said "This street usually has vans with fans (sic) who sleep here but they have all gone now to UCLA " and my first thought was - well what the fuck are you doing there then?

Later, I was watching BBC News and they had an interview with Uri Geller (famous for his bending spoon thing) and a friend of the now dead Jackson.

"So you were good friends with Michael" said the interviewer
"We had our ups and downs - sometimes we didn't even talk" he replied

Not surprised - if you kept fucking his cutlery up.

BUT, the real moment for me was when they started interviewing fans. Some were devastated (don't get it myself but, OK), some were celebrating his life (made a little more sense) but one woman said.........

"This will be remembered as the day Jesus died"

Er - no. You stupid little woman. If base your whole life on fiction the nasty goblins in pointy hats will get you.

However, I must thank Apple for my iPod. For the rest of the year, Michael Jackson will be on high rotation on every radio station. In my ears, I will be listening to Lacuna Coil.

It's Just A Jump To The Left

Sorry, Goth World, I have been busy assessing my life - like a snake with a lisp.

As I have another one of those birthday doofers coming up, I thought it was time to decide what I wanted, rather than what every other fucker desired from my embittered soul.

'AHA' - I thought, and then realised that was the name of a Norwegian band famous for something or other in the 80's. Thus, I changed my suppossedly cerebral statement to 'Gadzooks'.

However, the point remained the same - 'Why did I feel like what I was doing was what everyone else wanted?'.

That was actually quite easy to figure out (in retrospect). What was rather more complex was to figure out was why I could not simply be happy to exist.

It's a bizarre equation of life that we elicit what we desire from those we can, and yet, subjucate ourselves to those who we feel have more power.

Unfortunately, that 'point' has proven costly. In doing so, I committed to and destroyed a marriage, I have alienated my children, I lost the 'perfect' job for me.

Basically, I fucked up!!

So, in my thoughts on correction and validation, a feeling of Zen ran over me like a big, chocolate slug.

Maybe I didn't have to fight after all. Perhaps I could just utilise the gifts that I have to benefit the many.

(and before you religious freaks get in on the act, I did not see God, or Monkeys, or Sacred Cows - I saw my bank balance).

Most importantly, I saw the sadness in the eyes of people I love.

It was time for a change - and so, I made the change. All of my lovely hair got sliced of by a barber (and I didn't even go to Seville). I shaved my 'goatee' beard off. I even looked for a 'proper' job - one of those that pays you for holidays....

I'm not saying I found Gothic redemption - but I am fucking trying......

Reflections Of An Ass

So, I was meandering along my way, quite happily I might add, when I got accosted. I don't mean busted for drugs, as I wasn't carrying any this time, I mean that I got stopped and asked to carry a heavily pregnant woman and a variety of pots and pans.

Normally, that wouldn't bother me - I can't really complain as it is in the job description of being 'An Ass For Hire' but, this muppet kept complaining that he hadn't got his wife pregnant at all - it was the 'Hand of God' or some lame excuse.

Now, I'm not human but even my furry butt understands that you don't get laden with youngsters without getting a bit frisky - trying to foist the blame onto a non-specific entity is the oldest trick in the book.

Anyway, we arrived at some love-shack where my customer decided that we should spend the night. I wasn't overly fussed as it was getting a bit chilly and to be fair, the driver had got some carrots hidden in the towel on his head, which was bloody handy as I was feeling a bit peckish.

I was feeling rather tired and let slip the fact that I do actually speak. It wasn't really my fault but the woman was moaning so much that an expletive escaped from my tongue....

"Jesus Fucking Christ"

I muttered and, to my dismay, the woman said "That's a nice name - I think I might go with that". To be honest, I nearly choked on my carrot but, discretion being the better part of valour, I held my tongue and tried not to regurgitate the carrots.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the barn door, and three hippies appeared talking nonsense about 'following a light' or something. To be honest, I couldn't understand what they were harping on about - the smell that they were exuding was so bloody atrocious.

"We have presents for the Son Of God" said one of the hippies.
"Yeah - we've totally brought some..... dude, what did we bring?"
"We have brought things - important things.... that are worth lots of money because..."
"Yes - we've brought some stuff, that you totally won't use but smells nice in the bath, I think....."

The rest of the conversation is a bit hazy because I was desperate to go to the toilet and to be honest, the services in the hostelry were a bit shit and I didn't fancy the look of them at all. Thus, I farted and pretended I was going somewhere interesting.

I was going to return but there was so much fawning over the sprog, that I didn't feel that I belonged. Anyway, I already had my saddle-bags packed for my trip to Peru. I have to go and see Diana The Llama - she has the nicest girly-lumps you have ever seen.