My Bloody Valentine
Geek

Spicy piss because of that damn Chinese who made me seafood spaghetti full of Tabasco. Spitting blood and curses, a divine plague should fall on China, a rain of sulfuric acid, there. I'm afraid it might even burn my asshole. I'm in bad shape, spitting, I'm not at home and I've been sharing a latrine for about a month. When I arrived, I was freshly graduated, today I realized that in certain situations, the degree is not even large enough to wipe my ass well. I have to remove some dingleberries by hand to then wash with the stagnant water that the locals of Plumstead in turn piss, as if we were in the Boboli Gardens burlesque version. Anyway, I get out of the bathroom and leave without paying. Better yet, I leave the bathroom with the toilet in my arms. No joke. With my thing out and I get arrested. At least one peaceful night I spend inside.

One night, when I thought about her, about my mom whom I have stolen money from her purse several times, and about dad who paid for my studies. And I repay him like this. To the sister who pretends to have maybe, maybe reached the kissing stage while the guy who's the right wing in the village team named Mbomi has already tasted her both lengthwise and crosswise. Damn it. They all make fun of me because I have a slut of a sister who goes out with the big black guy. Some even say two. Together. Ok. Let's change the topic. Now they will say at home that I am inside, they'll invent a story that the big black guy also did it with me, those bastards. Who still smoke Salento, or Calabrian, or God knows where it comes from weed. Surely Albanian. Here you inject something else and I like it a lot. Yes, because when I go downtown and take the pipe it feels like I'm going to space. And on the surface, there are so many chicks but also many parks. I mean, park and chick is the winning combination. If you find the right one, all you need is a hedge. It happened to me with a fat Spanish chick and it was nice. It never works out with the one who gives me the course. If only she'd give me something else, maybe. Anyway, it's more or less always a trip here. Like when I see that guy with the mohawk who basically, in the end, I'm a bigger son of a bitch than him. He has the mohawk, I have the head. Like the other night at the Italian party when I drank I don't know what with who knows what inside. While everyone was melting, I stayed there determined to resist and didn't see what the others saw because I, I mean, I rock and I also have the body.

Or maybe I just have a tremendous need to put some order in my life. I don't know, I feel confused, I feel like the murderer of my dreams and the creator of my nightmares. I feel like life doesn't respond to controls yet I like to see it go to hell, like this, in a month. Sure, I can't manage to put order, as long as that jerk of a latrine neighbor keeps disturbing me by pounding the keys of that damn shitty laptop he has and listening to this music played by a band of the dead.

Geek! is the second EP by My Bloody Valentine dated 1985. The one pounding the keys is me. I made up this nonsensical thing because you could try reading it while listening to the tracks from this work.  It fits, right? In my head, I have names so heavy that I banged my face in the cemetery of cigarettes here on the table: deceased from Beatles, Joy Division, Sex Pistols. And then there's someone alive like J&MC. Imagine that putrid vitality. A group that goes like a zombie, you don't knock it down, heading towards an etherealism that here, perhaps, seems unsuspected. And instead, it will be there and somewhat it is. From this redox of the Misfits arise angels that fly without wings. Thus suspended men. It's a deadly tipping point, dry, that doesn't wet the women and only appeals to men who no longer want to listen to reasons. Death rock fits here. A dance of death like those in Dylan Dog where there are skeletons dressed as bikers with long hair who somehow sooner or later screw you over and you become like them. The limit is that at the time My Bloody Valentine risked becoming like them too. The advantage is that they became like the water cycle, capable of being everywhere and in everything, transcending and descending towards the personal hells of each of us. Starting from here. Or, maybe I just wrote a sea of emptiness to be discarded.