#* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir

[redheid]

— i  don't  go  away  if  you  ignore  me.

@bundledmisery         ♡

#bundledmisery #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #hehehehehehehehehehehe #hello u

[redheid]

— scared ay needles? yir scared ay them?   oh the guts ah have saying this, the absolute balls ay me.   — scared ay them... who- jesus, who pierced you n ran as a baby? scared ay the flu jab too, ah suppose?   ah ken thit ah’m being unfair. first few times ah tried the skag ah smoked it. ah wis no so much scared ay needles as ah wis totally incapable of finding a decent enough vein in ma arms (the fuckers live deep); the thing is ah had tae smoke wi the girls while everyone else went straight for the needle - getting the piss ripped outay me fir thit didnae kill ma buzz but did in fact have a good go at damaging ma frighteningly frail ego afterwards. ah ken very well thit the random contempt ah dinnae really feel for a nose turned up at a needle is akin to the childish tradition ah was a part of when ah started with the painting and decorating while back. first day, ah wis told to go n ask someone for a long wait. gadge said awright, wait here, then fucked off and left me standing in the cauld for fifteen fucking minutes: ah wis fumin. but when a newer gadge came, one who started the week aftir ah did, ah told him tae go n ask fir the long wait n he had his turn at being laughed at standing in the cauld, except he stood there for a solid half hour. feels like ma junkie right tae make it a harsh welcome tae the club even if ah couldnae care less aboot whitever way james here would be interested in shooting up.   

                — you can chase it like but yir veins arenae even bad.   ah nod at james’.   — can see the fuckers from here, you’d be wasting em. s’no half as good.

*        @distantsuns​      ★  .

#distantsuns #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #HELLO HOPE THIS WORKS

[redheid]

@childactress​    — do you just feel sorry for me?

— fuck off,    ah  say,  half  joking  in  the  midst  ay  a  breathy  laugh.  the  hostility  in  ma  voice  is  a  bit  much,  fir  the  joke  ah’m  meaning  it  tae  be.    — feeling sorry is a waste ay fuckin time. n anyway, ah’ve got enough tae feel sorry fir wi oot you in the picture tae.    ah  shake  ma  heid,  wave  ma  hand  dismissively  at  mara  and  tap  ma  heid  wi  ma  free  hand.    — ah value this real estate. if ah wanted it filled wi other people’s shite, ah woulda gone tae uni for psychology ‘stead ay english n history n became a therapist. wasted more ay ma time. plenty more people tae feel sorry fir.

#childactress #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #it's called being a great friend

[redheid]

@childactress​    — i’ve  never  seen  you  cry.

— stoic. made ay stone, me.    ah  cock  ma  eyebrow.  ah  laugh.  thit’s  ma  accidental  go  tae,  see.  at  ma  brother’s  funeral  (the second one),  ah  hoisted  up  the  coffin  and  sent  masel  intae  a  fit.  ah  looked  like  a  proper  jokester  then.  if  billy  had  control  ay  his  limbs  anymore  (if he were still in the waking world wi the rest ay us),  his  arm  woulda  swiped  outay  the  coffin  oan  ma  shoulder  n,  in  one  swift  motion,  woulda  slapped  the  giggles  right  oaf  ma  face.  it  was  uncle  charlie’s  hand  oan  ma  shoulder  thit  shut  me  up.  some  hostile,  disapproving  looks.    

                                — dae you think we should be sharin intimate moments like thit? seems a little  . . .  feminine. 

#childactress #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #boys dont cry by the cure plays

[redheid]

‘ mark, am i pretty? do you think i’m pretty? ’        @childactress

yes, ah nod. meaningfully so, and it makes me cringe intae maself thit ah answered so quick, looking so totally inhibited which really ah suppose ah am. reel it in, knock it back a bit: ah whip oot a grin, all smiles at mara.   ‘ d’you think ah’m pretty? ’   ah throw a toying hand to ma chest and let ma eyebrows crease together. my teeth get lost behind a puppy dog lip and ah cock ma head tae the side -- ah really can take up the role when ah need tae.   ‘ you can answer honest wi me. ah can take it. ah think ah can take it. ’

#childactress #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #* inter shitty; in character #mark: say yes or i could cry in front of you

[redheid]

— ah dinnae ken how they get the-the baws tae record themselves n put thit shite oot fir everyone tae hear. fuck, imagine you get an earful ay yir brother oan the daily fir years only tae see him, hear him, when yir shuffling aroond looking fir a podcast tae relax tae, for god’s sake.   ah dinnae ken why ah get in such a huff aboot it. not like ah don’t give ma ain personal podcast oan the daily tae whoever’s next tae me. ah get fucked aboot the stumbling n the mumbling in the unprofessional and unwanted recordings like ah shouldnae look at masel fir thit. ah sniff, finally look at mara aftir ma tirade.   — ah bet you’d start a podcast.

*        @childactress​​      ★  .

#childactress #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #i don't know why he's on podcasts right now but he does believe mara has a secret one somewhere in the depths of the internet #look him in the eye and say he's wrong you can't

[redheid]

CREEPY LOCATION MEME:  a forgotten graveyard on the outskirts of town.     @fullyfungi​

( ah never even meant to be mates wi him.  ah dinnae think we ever were. ah think it was like begbie, where ah was sat next tae him a few times in school, next tae luke knox, an that was that. mibbie it was a bit less like begbie in that luke never tried to chib everyone we came intae contact wi, less so that aftir school we never really stuck as mates. me an luke went our separate, separate ways, an that was that.

               small town an awl that but we never ran intae each other aftir leaving school. not that we ran in the same circles like, not that our circles even ran the same laps as each others, but tae roll up to the graveyard tae see davie a year aftir his passed an tae see luke sittin there on the brick wall outside, would be an understatement to say ah was shocked by the familiar face. like fuck he was there tae see davie. no one ken the fucker, spent his poor days lying in his bed awl day his awl life. ah was here on ma faither’s request, tae drop off flowers an uncle or a cousin or a distant somethin or another had brought round to mark the occasion.  ma thought it would be nice for davie to have them with him as if the poor fucker could pop his head up through the grave and smell them - when ah said somethin along those lines in response i was sent on my way to drop them off. ah’m still servin the fucker even in death. )

                renton gawks at luke. something about expecting this to be a quick solo trip. to chuck the flowers down say cheers to his deceased brother and get swiftly off on his way, maybe a quick visit to the mother superior or, worse, if he was out, not stocking, an even quicker visit to mikey forrester. it’s a hard day, he’d get what he can from anyone.   ( havenae seen the punter in years an ah see him here? ah did hear somethin about his brother, his doppelgänger passin. hell, maybe this is chris for all ah know. fuck knows ah could nevir tell them apart even then. )   

                ‘ awright? ’   rents says, the flowers stooping low.   ( ah will no lie, he disnae look too good either. )

#fullyfungi #HELLO this is backstory extraordinaire here they are <3 #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir

[redheid]

@bundledmisery​​    — is that all true, what you just said?

— ah dinnae make tae much ay a habit outay lying. bad fir yir soul, ken?

                                liar  liar  pants  oan  fire  sings  in  ma  heid.  if  someone  ay  ma  types  were  scooting  round  london  in  the  great  year  ay  1666,  fire  ay  london  type  pal,  ah  wouldnae  be  surprised.  someone  who  lies  tae  the  severity  ah  proclaim  to  refuse  could  surely  start  a  blaze  thit  big  just  by  skipping  down  the  street  tae  fast.

                                — dae ah look like a liar?    ah  ask,  bludgeoned  wi  faux  incredulity  ay  the  appraisal  ay  ma  innocence.    — mibbe yir strugglin tae believe the severity of the events ah have just described tae you oan account ay ma stupendous storytellin abilities. sounds like it came straight from an author’s mooth, a mastermind ay plot, ah ken, but ah swear oan ma mother’s life: the man came right in here, right up tae yir tip jar, tipped it in his pocket then swiftly retreated back ootay the door. ah wis simply taking aftir him, hence ma hasty leave and supposed treason against this fine restaurant, but ah promise you ah hold nothing but contempt fir these petty thieves. 

                                  ah  sincerely  hope  she  chooses  tae  ignore  the  clear  jangling  ay  coins  in  ma  pocket  on  account  ay  this  great  performance  here.  ah’m  tae  tired  tae  run  fir  the  pure  sake  ay  spending  all  ma  energy  as  an  actor  spindling  this  lie  n  sellin it.  never mind  the  west  end,  broadway  would  take  me  in  a  heartbeat.    — ah hud nothin else tae dae wi it n ah hate tae say it but it’d deeply wound me if you pushed any further oan questioning me when ah did nothing but try tae stop the fucker.

#bundledmisery #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #HE STOLE HE STOLE HE STOLE! #call the police i said call the police #hello hope this is ok>:)))

[redheid]

you deaf, boy? i asked you a question.

@m4ch1neg1rl​

but soft, whit light through yonder window breaks? fir it is buzzing like fuck in ma heid like an earwig ah cannae knock hard enough oot n ah so deeply fear it will burrow in there n awl ah will hear frim now oan is other peoples nocuous voices till ah think it’s ma own brain thinking oot loud fir me.   — naw,   ah shake ma heid. ah feel the petulance leaking frim me n the look oan ma face barely helps.   — ah heard awright.   ah certainly didnae.   — but ah’m no answering if yir gonnae be talking tae me like ah’m in fuckin primary school.

#m4ch1neg1rl #HELLO!!!!! <3 #rents vc put em up #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir

[redheid]

— everything involving you is my concern. 

@turnstyles​

— disnae sound half creepy, si.   ah smile.  feeling the solitary yin thit ah am disnae seem tae matter here. laying claim on ma choice at life feels a lot better coming from less of a parental figure, though, ah must admit. even when the frighteningly awl encompassing everything clambers oot and finds its way of being the focal point oaf the sentence. the sharing of maist everything started a long time ago and is therefore a long time going: it still remains startlingly weird tae have it all dished oot, painted fir me bright and clear, that there is someone who kens most all the ins and the oots oaf ma life, disagreeing wi the chosen events or naw. same goes back at simon. ah have a lot of silent disagreements on the doings of simon williamson. it’s pesky being mutual breathing diaries, unreliable narrators and judgmental pages as we are.   — is this the shite you’re whispering tae burds? gonnae write me a note tae leave by ma bedside when ya leave tomorrow too? 

#turnstyles #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #>:) #there they are #q

[redheid]

‘ gonna tell me where you’re going? ’        @turnstyles​​  (simon)

( ah never believed in the life flashing before yir eyes mumbo. in those dire moments right between the realisation that time might really be up an the then consequential completion of yir dire little existence, you hit rewind an spin through it all start tae finish. 

                ah took a few near deaths in ma time, the nature of the way ah live ma life i suppose, but none shot me back decades.  naw, not even a few minutes.  flight or fight usually kicked in quick enough. none took my breath, ma gusto outae me like the hushed tone of simon wakin up from the floor aftir ah stepped over him an headed for the door with the money. the second worst case scenario ah dreamt up when decidin to enact the ultimate betrayal of leavin ma friends like this. number once was begbie wakin an hell ah thought he would when ah tugged the bag out from his clutches in his sleep, but there’s time enough now fir that if sickboy decides to ring the bell oan me. sixteen thousand. cash. ah’m no sure what ah would do if ah woke up an saw him walkin out wi the bag, wi ma money, but ah’m the one who thought of it first an ah now wish more than anythin fir some chloroform, a rag, an stealth enough to squeeze it oan simon’s mouth. )

                ‘ gonna tell me where you’re going? ’    ( he sais an ah feel ma heart drop through ma spleen, ma stomach, ma guts, right till it’s outae ma body an droppin free fall through the floor full speed ten feet below. ah tighten ma grip on the duffel bag in fear it’ll fall an wake the rest of the room, that it’ll be next tae go. mibbe, ah think an remain unmoving, starin at him like if ah remain still enough he’ll forgit ah was there at awl, that simon’s a better person than me. mibbe he winna actually done it if he thought of it first. 

                ah’m sure he thought of it, though. ah’m certain of it. ah’m sure he ran through the risk factors and came up two for two an decided against it. mibbe no, his no better, he’s smarter. )  

                ‘ come wi us, ’   ( ah sais in a whisper an look ovir at begbie, down at the ground at spud. ah look back at sickboy and feel the wash of guilt hit me so hard it could knock me unconscious. ma body’s goin numb. ah nod and let my piercing gaze sit. ah think of the first hit we had, togither, an ah think of every one after that. ah think of gettin clean an him doin it too just to piss me off, to downplay ma struggle. ah think aboot the drinks the drugs the gigs the laugh of him when ah got the release date of dr. no and goldfinger mixed up. the lashins ah took from him for it. other way round, mark, have you no been studyin? dr. no ‘62, goldfinger 64. ah was pissed off the rest a the day. ah swallow hard, so hard ah worry the reverberations will work as an alarm clock so simon doesnae have to. )   ‘ come wi us. ’

#turnstyles #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #simon waking up instead of spud SIMON WAKING UP INSTEAD OF SPUD #O.O my eyes are open.

[redheid]

‘ i’m sure i used to be nice before this job. ’         in a series called @tenacityreturns​​ sends me memes captioned ‘from whoever’ and offers me free scope to pretend it’s from any character i want: billy renton edition

( it may no be fair but the second he walks through the door and sits on the settee till the moment the fucker sais this, maither and faither hangin off his every word, i have a long string of cuss words runnin through ma heid. a train chuggin cunt cunt cunt cunt going 100mph with ma brother tied down on the tracks below it replacin ma typical train of thought that, ah will say, is usually a lot less impassioned than this one; a lot less sweary and ah lot more varied phonetically. he’s back from ireland where he nivir shouldae been in the first place an talkin shite on him torturin the bastards ovir thir in the name of god’s country a little south a the anglo-saxon borders. 

                 billy boey’d just finished a doozey about a near miss petrol bomb an talked a the slaggin off they did when they found the doss cunt whose work it was. ma ma’s face mustae twisted in a way he didnae like while me faither there stood smilin with pride a the son of a bitch when billy claimed he used tae be nicer. the boat ovir must’ve changed him, somethin in the irish seas.  fuck off, nicer.  i shared a room with the cunt for years. only peace and quiet i got was when i fucked off to university an everyone left surprised when ah dropped out an came back wi an honest an sincere drug habit. wouldnae know what tae do wi maself the moment ah get a second wi maself away from the cunt to assess the damage he’d done to ma psyche, sitting in my dorm room starin at the ceiling like that. billy boey wouldnae know nice if it bit him in the arse. 

                ah scoff. billy looks over, so does ma scornful faither. ah eye them an don’t make a move. ma maither notices the quiet in the air, changes her tune. readjusts her face to a smile an puts her hand on her billy’s knee. )   ‘ go on, son, what else? ’   ( she sais. billy looks away from me but my faither’s eyes still linger on ma person. i donnae move under his watchful gaze. a few moments later an he looks back at billy, countenance gone and changed quicker than ah ever could. he smiles at billy an ah think of our davie in the next room alone in his bed, probably not even knowin billy was here. god, ah gottae get outta here soon. somethin in the air here that disnnae agree wi me. )

#again robyn i LOVE U THANK U FOR SENDING!!!!!!!!!! #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir

[redheid]

‘ this house is so quiet. ’                @fullyfungi

ah nod a solemn affirmative. he’d never been in here before, luke: most huvnae and the truth is thit those thit had anytime before the past year or so were not at awl a part of ma perfectly curated plan tae keep them as far as fuck from the building as ah possibly could. few from ma circle have wandered the walls of camp renton, the parental home, but ah needed tae pick a thing or two up and it would have been weirder tae leave luke hanging outside than it would be tae let him in, weird fir me tae make him dae thit, so ah offered the front door intae the empty trunk of silence thit is utterly down a peg in the clearly lived in department. s no like the place is deserted, ma mother opened the door n let us in, greeted luke wi the picture of his baby face fresh in her mind as the only recollection as tae who he was and talked about pulling out class photos oot from under the stairs to commemorate his visit then just as quickly moved on tae speak her sorrows and her condolences for the other knox passing. this would have been aboot the moment ah pushed oan past her and up tae my room, sick tae ma stomach of the fact she was most certainly aboot tae walk this conversation right around to our ain personal grieving. 

                doof, ah think of the sound thit used to fill the walls. ma faither thwacking wee davie’s back in the next room, clearing the gunk from his chest hourly. doof, doof, doof, doof, doof. 

                by the time ah got back down from ma room, LP’s tucked neatly under ma arm, my ma had left luke standing in the corridor. no doubt tae go off somewhere tae find those crusty class photos where ah look even more gangly and off putting than ah do now with the luke and luke lookalike hovering aboot somewhere in the sea of children. the silence aside from her occasional shuffling in the other room was insurmountable. a constant pressure oan ma chest thit kept me from ever wanting tae come home, least oaf awl wi company. there used tae be this buzzing, constant fucking buzzing in the house with talk about the now passed renton (rest in peace, so ah’m told); worrying about him, about when they’d go on up tae see him again, about how me and billy should go up tae see him more often and how he missed us. constant. fucking. buzz. buzz. buzzkill.

                ‘ will we head? ’   ah sais tae luke, trying ma turn at breaking the silence, tae make some kind of dent in it and no at awl succeeding. a sentence dilutes intae fuck awl in this house. it eats words up and disnae dare spit them oot, it swallows them whole tae let itself grow and become even more powerful. ah fucking hate it. 

#fullyfungi #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #i said i have nothing to write and then remembered u sent this and <3

[redheid]

‘ i’m in trouble. i’m being chased by… someone. ’                @childactress

‘ oh, aye ... the elusive someone. ’   ah nod a whirlwind of a nod, a mibbe no patronising one but something as close as.   ‘ got a name? vague description, mibbe? ’   ma eyes scrunch together for a second before ma eyebrows raise tae the heavens. ah’d cross ma arms across ma chest fir the drama of it, tae seal the deal, but thit seems a little high strung high energy fir me.   ‘ naw? anything? ’

#childactress #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #renton: hello?

[redheid]

‘ i think i need a chocolate shake. ’        @childactress​

( it’s the simpsons that springs tae mind. old reruns of early episodes, me an ma brother crawling away from the telly then trawling oor way through the youtube tae watch the 90s shorts. let's all go out for some frosty chocolate milkshakes - thit wis it, the iconic line. it slipped from homer after a while but at the mention of any milkshake my heid still runs tae it. waste of money milkshakes, as oor faither said whenever we repeated it fir the sake of repeating it (bart simpson wis the usual idol but other quotable lines kept in oor hearts, a certain pleasure for frosty chocolate milkshakes reigned in the kiddies brains), but fir some reason, mibbe a reason surveying the same area in ma brain that’s keepin me a second from face plantin the floor, ah cannae think of anythin more appealing. ah nod at mara, mibbe too ferociously fir the fact it’s aboot milkshakes an say,   ‘ aye. ’   the nod continues.   ‘ you buying? ’

#childactress #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir #havent made anything really about the simpsons for a while happy to have been given the chance now

[redheid]

‘ i drink about three bottles of wine on a good day. on a bad day, i only manage one. ’        @childactress​

renton snorts.   ( it’s a hideous sound that emanates from me an ah feel uninhibited. ah feel like that when i’m off the skag and turn ma interests to other more socially acceptable nullifiers; in short: ah feel this woman. wine is no ma usual choice but ah do take what ah can get ma hands on when i find maself in such a state; am no a fussy punter ah all. )  brows tie in together and he nods to her, his eyes switch on like christmas lights, the mirth of him.   ‘ your local must love you. ’

#childactress #mara banks girl i love you #* inter shitty; in character #* junk dilemmas no. 65; memoir