Sunday, March 28, 2010

trials and tribulations...

The upshot of the trial separation was that I was charged ‘in absentia’ with being the same complete cunt she suspected I was from the very beginning. I was vigorously prosecuted without ever being allowed to take the stand in my defence, found guilty by a judge/jury of one, summarily convicted…and subsequently sentenced to an indeterminate period of singleness. I was not even present when the sentence was carried out, though in all honesty, even had I known about the trial and its inevitable outcome, I doubt whether I’d have been able to mount much of an argument against the complaint anyway. I was a complete cunt; guilty as charged…no question of it.
From my perspective, while the secret trial was going on, I wouldn’t say things were any better or worse as such. We hadn’t had sex, either deliciously passionate with anger or even anaesthetically dull with duty for over a century, so sleeping in separate bedrooms was hardly going to make a difference. Absence and abstinence certainly did not appear to make our distant hearts grow fonder or our respective pink bits itchier. About the only lesson we learned from sleeping apart was that we definitely got a better night’s sleep. It turned out to be a case of he/she who sleeps alone may be alone…but at least they slept.
I was snoozing so well in fact, I’d already decided that at the conclusion of the trial separation, assuming things went smoothly and my wife stopped being insane, I would suggest either continuing to sleep in different bedrooms or at the very least get twin Queen-sized beds. That way we could have perfectly obligatory sex whenever one of us could be bothered going over to the other person’s bed then scuttle back to our own bed for a well-earned rest. I’d even promised myself I would go over to her bed for sex a lot more often than I would ask her to come to my bed for sex too, though of course any decision to visit my wife’s bed for carnal relations was based less on any notion of gentlemanly good-manners by committing to the extensive travel and more on the practical advantages of letting her sleep on the wet spot.
Hey, I said I was a complete cunt; didn’t you believe me?
Just why our sex life had withered on the marital vine so markedly has always been a matter of fierce academic debate. I claim that my wife’s horrendously complex and multi-layered issues of self-loathing, poor body-image and low self-esteem had created a metaphorical lasagne of neuroses through which it was impossible for me to cut. She would probably say I was a lazy asshole with a blunt, rusty knife; both arguments have equal merit.
Now, before I go on I’d just like to say that my wife was utterly gorgeous and I was physically attracted to her from the first moment I laid eyes on her. She was a clone of Sarah Jessica Parker, you know, Carrie from ‘Sex and the City’. And I mean the good Carrie too, the one with the lustrous straight hair and stylish shades, not the tired-looking hippy Carrie with the frizzy hair and windscreen-sized sunglasses. My wife had Carrie’s wonderfully expressive face, she had her fabulous toned legs, her sexily tapered waist and her overly generous breasts…she even had the long, aquiline nose.
When we went out in Tokyo where we lived for a time, schoolgirls would come up to us in the street and ask her excitedly for an autograph. They’d giggle hysterically while my wife signed their ‘Hello Kitty’ diaries, jabbering away in Japanese, oblivious to the fact I could understand what they were saying, most of which centred on how fabulous Carrie looked and how apparently disappointing Matthew Broderick (me) was in real life…


Clyde said...

Ha ha ha---mate , you have lived my life.
Ok, my wife didn't look like a film star but was bloody beautiful---mates could not believe that I was in the other bedroom---but you just get to that stage of no matter how good they look, how horny you are--you just cant go back there---you know you have to beat the power of the pussy, that pussy


I think Carrie is hot!
And I love the idea of separate rooms and visiting each other.

xl said...

If our divorces could be handled in Star Chamber, I would have filed long ago.

Bad Bob said...

Sounds like marital "hall sex" came too early in your relationship. That's when you pass each other in the hall and you both say "Fuck You".
I think that women who are incredibly hot are way too high maintenance for me. They are too used to stupid cunts like me who are willing kiss their ass in hopes of getting a sympathy fuck or at least a peek at it.
I have a button that says, "Getting used to getting used".
You'd think I would learn. At least you got decent sleep.

Spiky Zora Jones said...

Fingers: Hi sweetie. You've settled in and things are gliding rather smoothly now.

The images and character/personalities,, are set. I'm interested as to where you go from here.

Hum, where to go from here?

As for you being a cunt, I don't believe it. I want more proof. It's not enough to say it or show a sliver of it. it isn;t enough...give me an instance. Let me as the reader, decide. Maybe in future posts...huh?

It's going wonderfully honey.

As for Umberto Eco...I'm more of a Pablo Neruda reader. That said, I guess if you're describing the readers as 'the fine line'...then it may be so. I don't believe theres a fine line between good writing and unreadable garbage normally. It either is or it's not...depending on who reads it. The writer would hope they are all of the same mind and the writer's work is worth much praise by the masses. But it's up o the individual reader to decide and that's all that matters...

And so far, this reader is digging you.

Later honey xxx

BamBamBam said...

She was better looking than Carrie... less horse-faced. And I don't like the "pink bits" with the "itchy" because even though you're saying itchy as in urging, i'm only thinking itchy pink bits, as in the clap... not good. Otherwise I'm quite enjoying the first 2 mini-chapters!

Memphis Steve said...

"I claim that my wife’s horrendously complex and multi-layered issues of self-loathing, poor body-image and low self-esteem had created a metaphorical lasagne of neuroses through which it was impossible for me to cut. She would probably say I was a lazy asshole with a blunt, rusty knife; both arguments have equal merit."

Sounds like a typical marriage to me. Then again, several people have informed me that I'm a cunt, too. And I've come to believe it.

mushroom said...

Are you sure you weren't married to amy winehouse??

Oh...have I ruined this for everyone?

EmmaK said...

I suppose my problem with this is -to be frank - that you never seemed to have had a relationship with your wife unless you did and in that case describe it ie:
When we first met I was enamoured by her sense of humor, her ability to quote Seinfeld, the way her body seemed to fit into mine so easily so effortlessly blah blah...and then say how it went down the shitter

I just mean is anyone really interested in a situation which you seem to be outlining where two basket cases got together out of loathing/lust/cocaine and even here during the 'separation' are pretending they are in a relationship when there is zero connection betweeen them and the fact that she is hot is a pretty moot point

I think you need to delve deeper into this because right now it is just a mass of surface details and you need to grab the reader by the balls and make him cry

Memphis Steve said...

I think Emma is thinking more of a story about the characters and the love between them, and I'm thinking along the lines of a story like "Blow" where it's all the wild stuff that happens to the characters that makes the story, and no one ever really notices that they don't know the main characters at all even when the story ends.

Electro-Kevin said...

Clyde made me honk with laughter.

The fact is that for every beautiful, tender woman there's a guy bored to death with fucking her.

Now bring me a slut !

Electro-Kevin said...

'...poor body-image and low self-esteem had created a metaphorical lasagne of neuroses...'

Couldn't you have just described it as a 'lasagne of neuroses' ?

Why 'metaphorical' ? Do you think your readers are so obtuse as to think that you were talking about a real lasagne ?

I could describe your writing about the lasagne as metaphorical but in your descriptive prose it is rendered redundant as we know that you're using imagery - the word 'metaphorical' is dead in this instance - it has ... pasta way.

EmmaK said...

@memphissteve...I know some books are experimental/have no plot or whatever but I'm pretty sure Fingers is going to have to get some sort of narrative going. Every commercial book has a story arc this one will no doubt be 'what I learnt about myself through a diabolical relationship' - I mean what I think is going on here is that he is writing this like it is a blog and that is a totally different can of worms from a book even if it is loosely non fiction -I am just saying from a commercial point of view you need a hook, what is it about? a one line pitch

EmmaK said...

@electro kevin...yeah why are skinny/model type beautiful women I know always so unbelievably narcissistic and boring I'm not jealous but its always the way....i know they never had to develop a personality

Spiky Zora Jones said...

Ciao dude.

Madam Z said...

Don't feel bad, Fingers. All men are cunts and all women are pricks.

fifi said...

um, I am finding this rather compelling.

Very Good.


There are very few born writers,but I would say Fingers is one. Look at the fluidity of his words? It's like a poetic ballet.

I don't think that Finger's is intending to take us on a journey of self discovery[how dull!] or probe into the dynamics of a marital connect/disconnect[again- *snooze*]but give us a light hearted, tongue-in-cheek,self depreciative,semi autobiographical romp that's unique for his eloquence and turn on phrase.

Keep the metaphorical lasagna in there -that is a perfect example of precisely what makes your writing flow so beautifully, Carrie.

* I should probably say something either very clever or mean now,so I don't sound like a groupie, huh?

Your writing makes me swoon but you're still a cu--[and I could still kick your ass in a blog war.Prick!]

Keep doing though, exactly what you're doing. It's great.

Memphis Steve said...

Emma makes a good point. And clearly I know shit about good writing, as anyone who has read my blog can atest. Still, I can see Johnny Depp playing Fingers and Sienna Miller playing the ex.

fingers said...

Clyde: Jeez, she wasn't all bad. It's not like she was that supermodel on the poster with the caption 'Somehwere, some poor bastard is putting up with this cunt's shit.'

Uber: We were saving up for separate houses some day.

xl: It's cheaper to have them killed.

BB: Not really mate. Remember these opening scenes are the bitter end. It was hardly a nightmare from day one even if we weren't peas in a pod.

Spiker: Yeah I'm still not convinced a novel is the way to go here. It's slow going. I might end up just writing the gags and fill in the details later.

BBB: Yeah it's not necessarily the image I was aiming for either but it's more a matter of getting the gist down and tweaking it later.

MS: I wouldn't even call it a marriage. It wasn't really...but I'll elaborate later.

Mush: Well I was no angel either.

Emmak: Point taken baby but it's just page 2...I'm in the middle of explaining how I became single. Of course I'll bactrack at some point and put the relationship in context but for now I'm starting at the end. And BTW this is not a memoir or a Shakespearean tragedy, nor do I intend rubbing my readers' noses in the good times; where's the humour in that ??

MS: Yeah...typical Mars and Venus stuff. This is no romantic novel that's for sure.

E-K: I dare you to say that in front of your missus, tough guy. Anyway, let me have a think about the lasagne metaphor. I'm not in love with it.

Emmak: Nope, no narrative, not yet. No journey of moral redemption either. Perhaps if I called Chapter 1 'How I Became Single' then it would give you an idea where I was going...but I'm really just thought-dumping for now. Very much appreciate your input though from a commercial writier's viewpoint.

Spiker: Bye bye...where are you going ??

Z; What on earth makes you think I feel bad about any of this ??

FiFi: Good grief...are you still reading ?? Hahahahahaha, this is so not what I thought would float your artisitic boat.

Uber: Thanks baby. I think I want to write an anti-book in some ways. A mix of Nick Hornby and Seinfeld perhaps. A 'How Not To' manual, since I've always felt my life was meant to serve as a warning to others.

MS: I knew this was going to be a difficult thing to do on a blog. Still not sure it will work to be honest. The good news is that if it doesn't work...I can just bin it...


Yeah, I got that Fingers[and why I hope you will continuee with this book]. The only suggestion I would make is a second blog attached to this one- so that on days when you don't feel like writing the anti- book, you can do your one off posts without disrutping the flow of the book.

If anyone could pull off the Seinfeld/Horny angle it's you.
And this all makes for fascninating reading!


* Hornby.

rage said...

Wow, SJP eh? Hubba Hubba!

fifi said...

I did say STRANGELY compelling :-)

I get the odd bit of traffic from here. I like to call by.

mimi sioux said...

hehe this is brilliant mate...
it doesnt seem like a fun situation but you can certainly make it sound funny!

Sweet Cheeks said...

Actually, I like your two entries so far. I picture a lone voice in my head...telling this story...purely from one point of view - so that you deny your readers the luxury of getting to know anything about the other characters, except what you allow them to know. Very edgy.