drunk writing/re-writing Tulett the 100th goddamn time.

So sitting here, being a bit tipsy, but having one hell of a inspiration, so I just went with it. As few might now, I’ve actually re-written the Tulett story over a dozen times. During my trip to France (~2008? I’m bad at keeping up with Time) I had actually finished the story and given it for a review to a friend of mine, which gave quite a constructive, but generally positive review, but eventually I discarted the storyline as being blunt and without a real story.

Anyway, just a bot of a backstory to where this is going. For the record I have the characters and their back stories written out and I’m more than pleased with those, so I’m currently still stuck with the “main message” of the story. I can write. I can write heaps of stories, but I want to write this one with an underlying actual story line I’d be proud of. As I’m slowly piecing together the DNA of Tulett, I often get either disheartened by my lack of language and ability to speak my mind in more than just basic terms, or super-inspired, discarting my lack of abilities, like a two-legged lion, ripping out of it’s cage.

(I laugh to myself, since I started writing this without any real knowledge as to what I actually want to say, but I actually make sense in the end.) As I sit here tipsy (style-wise very bad way how to write, but hey, I’m learning as I read ( Nietzsche at the moment, for the record. And what a trip he is, I have to say)), I’ve managed to slur out 3 pages worth of Tulett material. Anyway. This is god-knows-what-time of re-writing this, bet here I go. so far very happy with it.

The pressure in Fran’s head was building up. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to get out, so she did. As she ripped through the crowd and opened the doors, the smoke steam and stench of it all dissolved into the cool night’s air.

Taking in a deep breath it almost felt like being alive again.  The girl stood there for a while, eyes closed. Without opening them up, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Lit one up and opened her eyes as the blew out the first smoke.

It was a starry night, but some clouds covered parts of the sky. As they rolled over the magnificent view, it almost looked like the giant growing moon was pulsating. Like a giant, illuminated heart in the middle of the universe.

Some other smokers were gathered in small crowds. Cracking jokes, sharing gossip and trying to find a lover. The ones that already had, were hidden for the unlikely observer, the the shades of the dark back street, away from the street lamps and the bar’s fluorescent windows. But Fran saw them. Fran saw everything most people didn’t.

„Oi, Fran! Whatcha doing ‘ere?” a raspy voice sounded from the door. She turned and saw her friend Thom. He was a big guy, looked like he could crack somebody’s head with his bare arms. His green mohawk, tattoos, chains and ragged clothes just added to his threatening appearance. Couple of smoker groups paused what they were talking about and glanced at both Thom and Fran as if she was in trouble. It was far from it. Thom had one of the kindest hearts she knew.

„Just smokin’.” She raised her cigarette, so he could see it.

„Cool. Wait a sec’.. Shut the hell up, you asshole, that wasn’t..” His voice faded as the door closed. The groups went back to their topics and Fran strolled up the back street up to the main one. She glanced to her left. Empty. She breathed in the fresh air. The one thing she most loved was empty streets in the middle of the night. Almost felt like you owned the World for that second.

She opened her eyes and glanced to her right and was taken aback as she saw some silthouette standing on the other side of the street. Almost felt like that fairy World she imagined just seconds ago was shattered. The silthouette appeared to be smoking. Some smoke appeared against the street lights. Few seconds later the person turned around the corner and walked away.

“Wankers..” She mumbled.

“Who’s a wanker?” Thom startled her from behind. He was lighting up as she turned.

“Shit, man, you scared the shit out of me!” She punched him on the shoulder.

“Hey! It’s not my problem you’re a scary cat!” He smiled, “Aren’t you cold? Shit, it makes me cold just looking at you..” He pointed to Fran’s near naked body.

“Har har! Very funny.” There was a moment of silence as Thom pulled in a big smoke, held it for a bit and then let it out his lungs.

“Ahh.. There’s nothing like a good smoke.”

“Tell me about it..” They stood in silence, enjoying their smokes

“Hey, when do you plan on finishing my arm, man?” Thom pointed to his half-finished skull tattoo on his upped arm.

“Whenever, dude.” She lit another cigarette. Thom rubbed the end of his on his palm. Fran grimaced, but didn’t say anything.

“How about today?”

“Sure, but I need to get my kit. You know where we could do it? You know Maddie isn’t having any of that in the apartment.”

“Yah, man. I’m going to Maggie’s after this. We’re having a game, so you can do during that.”

“You’ll be able to concentrate, while I’m working?”

“Dude, we’re half-pissed. I don’t think it’s going to be a game of the century.” He gave out a laugh. Fran smiled.

“True. Well, then should I go get my kit?”

“Sure, just let me go with you. You’re gonna get raped looking like that..” He snorted.

“Hey!” She punched him again. He started laughing.

“Wait up, I’ll tell Maggie we’re meeting up at his place.” He burped and went in. Fran sat down on the sidewalk.

“You know he does have a point..” Fran saw a young woman dressed in tight leathery bondage dress. Her black hair were flowing down her sides.

“Speak for yourself, bitch.” Fran drew her eyes from her down to the other side of the street in front of her. It was quite a challenge. The woman was gorgeous. Body to die for, big luscious lips painted black, piercing eyes framed in eye liner and a silvery decorative filigree on her forehead between them. If Fran gave a secod thought to anything anybody says, she’d be hurt.

“Owch.. Now there’s a way how not to treat people.” Fran gave her a stare, but didn’t say anything, “Anyway, I was more reffering to you being a knockout.” She sat beside Fran, who was struggling not to blush. She wasn’t used to people speaking up with her. She often got startes, she was used to those, since she did have quite a skeletal complextion and it got poeple questioning, but nobody actually did. She turned her head towards the woman, as if expecting explanation. She was just looking forward. Fran followed her glance and was surprised as she stopped at a view of a cat tearing up a rat, “Circle of life.”

“Yah..” she sighed and then pulled in another batch of smoke in her lungs. Fran heard Thom coming out of the doors again. She turned as he came closer and saw a scawny goth kid under Thom’s arm. It was their mutual friend Adam, or as Thom liked to reffer to him “Maggie”. He was a bit younger than Thom, dressed all in black, some messy eyeliner around his eyes and even messier hair. Fran questioned his hygene whenever she saw the hair, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Maggie is being a baby and is coming with us..”

“I’m not a baby..!” Adam said hazily as he tried to get out of under Thom’s arm. He froze as he saw the girl next to Fran. She had turned her face to the pair. Fran noticed the awkward silence.

“This is.. sorry, I didn’t..” The girl got up.

“I’m leaving…” Fran was a bit taken aback as she watched her descent. The girl gave her a last look and then walked into the club.

“Whooo!! Somebody got cut off!” Thom burst out laughing.

“What the fuck, man..?” Adam was still fighting his hazy state, looking at the door, as if hoping she would come out again.

“Yeah.. that was.. awkward..” Fran raised her eyebrows.

“Who was she?” Thom lit up another cigarette and gave one to Fran.

“Hell if I know.. A creeper. I think she was trying to hook up with me..”

“Whoo! Lesbo moment. Sorry pal, she’s out of your league.” He gripped Adam tighter.

“Stop it, dude! It was fucking creepy.” Fran lit up her cigarette and they all went down the main street to Fran’s apartment.

Toilet Memoirs Pg 4

I guess a lot of time had passed, because I didn’t even notice how it had turned a lot darker than before. The car pulled into a smaller road that had no asphalt on it. I felt excited – a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time, “Where are we going?”
“We’ll stay in this house for the night,” she didn’t even raise her eyes, “We’ll go further tomorrow morning.” I looked past her to see where the road lead. Dirt, trees and skies. That was all I could see.
“Where are we going tomorrow?”
“To a better place.”
“That’s what they said to the Jews when they sent then to concentration camps, you know,” I said wondering if there could be a worse place than the white cell. Still felt nice to hear that. It felt nice to hear ANYTHING besides the humming of the lamp I had outside my cell when it was on and the occasional steps.
“But you’re not a Jew.” I think she smiled, but I couldn’t see it.
“No… I’m not…” I looked to the sides, hoping I might catch a glimpse of an animal. I needed to see something different. The repetition started to drive me insane again.

It was pretty dark when the car entered a court of some sort. There was a simple house. I couldn’t tell if it was abandoned or not. The windows were dark. The woman got out of the car. I struggled with the knob until she opened the door for me.
“Can you walk?” Mircea got down on her knees and I noticed a pair of boots in her arms. She started putting them on me.
“I can certainly try,” When she was done, I grabbed the car door and pulled myself up. I could stand.
“Good. You need to exercise to get your muscles to work again.” She took the bottle and helped me to walk to the house. The heavy boots certainly weren’t helping in making my walking easier.
Mircea opened the door – surprisingly it wasn’t closed – and we entered.
“Wait here, I’ll see if I can get some light.” I lost her sturdy arm and wobbled for a moment. Leaned against the wall. I could hear her touching the walls for a switch, then something clacked, “Damn.” she went out. I felt abandoned for a second and slowly collapsed until I found myself sitting on the floor. The woman soon returned with a flashlight.
“You OK?” She flashed it on me. It nearly blinded me.
“Yeah..” I uttered. The light traveled to the wooden floor, then to a different room.
Steps and rattling. Clacking and swearing. She went out again. This time her steps moved behind the house. Silence.
I gave out a sob. I didn’t feel bad or anything. It just seemed… appropriate. A humming sound. I imagined her finding a generator and making it work. Steps. Flash in my eyes. This time I held them closed. A clack. White light. Opened my eyes, the lobby was now filled with dim yellow light. I struggled myself up as she turned off the flashlight and looked at me.
“Come, let’s find a bed or something,” she went into the room to the right. I hesitated, I didn’t want to mention the feeling I had when I heard the word “bed”. Couldn’t even think of sleeping now. I slithered into the room. A couch, table, few chairs. Mircea was bending over the little furnace. Hadn’t even noticed that I had goosebumps all over my numb body. It must’ve been pretty cold. I was only wearing the hospital clothing plus the coat and boots that my savior gave me.
“Why are you doing this?” Mircea froze for a moment and turned against me.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think this is the way how you transport people to a different madhouse, so I’m pretty sure that you just saved me from rotting away in that cube.” the redhead turned back to the furnace and somehow got the fire burning.
“Let’s get you dressed up or you’ll freeze to death.” She dashed past me before I knew it and was back with a bag. The woman started pulling out clothing and laying it on the couch. I kept starting at her waiting for a reply, when I realized that the clothing that she’d put out was my own. I went to the couch and stared down at it.
“Who are you?” I felt amazed. The woman finished putting out my clothing and zipped the bag close.
“Get some sleep, We’re heaving out at sunrise,” were the last words I heard before she disappeared in the door. I pondered on following her, demanding answers, but I was still too numb to care. For now.

Toilet Memoirs Pg 3

She stood in front of me, held my chin and looked closely into my eyes. Lips moved again. This time they were a lot more marked as if talking to a small child. Tried reading from lips. I think she said “can you move?” Since I had nothing else to do I kept playing this game my mind had come up with. I said I can’t hear. The woman sighed, thought for a while, took her coat off and put in on me.

One of her arms slid behind the small of my waist and with other she put my right arm over her shoulder and helped me up. My legs stung for a while. I was amazed at the physical effects the mind was able to produce. Stepped one step. It hurt. Another. And another. Soon I imagined myself walking out of the cell and down the white hallway. My hips and back started to hurt.

We approached a desk with a man sitting by it. He looked at us. “this is the part when she pulls out a gun and shoots the bastard right between his eyes,” I thought smirking. We came closer and the man stood up. The woman reached behind her and pulled out… papers. I was surprised.

“This is not what I imagined…” the papers looked like documents. She passed them to the man, still holding me up. The man looked at them, nodded, signed and gave them back.

“This cannot be happening. I must be going more crazier than I am! I don’t recognize my body and now I don’t even recognize my own train of thoughts!” We moved along thought several doors. The woman opened last ones and I felt a rush of cold air. “No fucking way…”

I think my mind and senses woke up at the exact moment I muttered these words. We stopped by a car. Don’t remember what kind it was. The redhead put me on the back seat. Tried sitting up, but had tough luck doing it. I didn’t even notice when she got in the car or started driving. By the time I was high enough to see what’s happening outside the windows we were driving down some road that lied between two green walls of trees. Forest. We must’ve driven really fast to get out of the city. Or maybe it just took me forever to get up high enough… Time was a stranger to me.

The blueness of everything hurt my eyes. Coughed a lot, too. I saw her hand with a bottle of some lemonade.

“You need sugar to get some energy,” her voice was somewhere far off. Stretched my hand that seemed to weigh a million tons in spite of it being unrealistically skinny. Clutched the bottle, but it fell right through my clasp as the woman let go of it, “shit.”

“It’s OK, I’ll try to get it,” I muttered, couldn’t really hear myself saying anything. I was more relying on my leftover sanity that I actually got to saying the words I wanted. For a second I wondered if she understood anything I was saying…

Bent down and fell sideways momentarily. My back seemed like a jelly. Still lying on my side I fished for the bottle on the car floor and seemed to find it, but had tough time raising it. After a long time I was sitting upright with the bottle in my lap trying to unscrew it. “fucking cap… forget about it..” I tossed the bottle, but it just fell sideways off my lap. Good enough.

I looked in the mirror and met with deep green eyes. “What’s your name?” I said. By his time I thought I could heard myself. It sounded more like a scratchy whisper. I realized that talking hurt my throat. I’ve become so oblivious to pain that I might have missed a lot more pain than I actually had. Not that I was complaining….

“Can you hear me now?” was the reply somewhere still far off, but closer than before.

“Very silently, I think I’m retrieving my hearing.”

“Mircea.” I think she shouted it, because I heard it OK, “how are you feeling?”

“Very… weak.”

“It’s normal, you have muscle atrophy because you haven’t moved them in a while.”

“Do you know how long I was lying there?”  She fell silent for a moment and I think I heard her murmur ‘too long’.

I could move my head now quite easily. Even thought the trees kept repeating I kept watching them. Admiring how different the patterns are. You get weird after some time in a white cell, staring at the ceiling. You can’t help it. I asked her to open the window, so I could smell the air. She did so. Now I really felt like a falling person. No restraints. Wind blowing into my face. I wanted to put my head out to feel it better, but I thought that it might be blown away in my current state.

Toilet Memoirs Pg2

“I was moved to a different ward and I started getting weird dreams that soon turned into nightmares. They all started as if I was having a normal life and then it got more and more twisted until I screamed myself awake during nights and early mornings. They gave me sleeping medicine. Those were even worse. The dream wouldn’t stop since I couldn’t wake myself up until the drugs went out.

Once in several days.. I couldn’t really tell the time since I didn’t have a window or a clock in my sight. I think once in several days I’d fall asleep whether I wanted it or not. I slept when I was exhausted.

I think it was about that time I started hurting myself. I just couldn’t bare with it all. And I needed something to hold on. Something to hold my sanity onto. Something real. Sounds a bit weird, don’t you think? Hurting yourself to stay sane? Hurting yourself isn’t really sane now, is it?

I did everything I could. Scratched myself till blood. Bashed my arms, legs and even head against the wall. Pinched myself. Anything you can think of. They gave me tranquillizers to calm me, but they’d used them so often that they started to loose any effectiveness on me.

They restrained me soon after since there was nothing else they could do. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t sleep. I could only scream and cry until I felt blood in my throat and had no tears. Then I’d lie quietly as a corpse, trying not to think. I was terribly scared of the calmness. I remember looking down at my body and seeing nearly the whole anatomy. Skin and bones. It scared me. I felt it was not my body. Was I dying? A living corpse? I was terrified of myself.

It’s hard to explain the feelings that I had. I was scared all the time. You cannot even imagine how it is to be scared continuously. You know the little hurting feeling when you skip a beat? Then you’ve been scared by a friend or something? Extend that into hours. Days. Weeks… Months… did I mention that I lost track of time?

Friends… That’s another thing. Cannot even remember having any.

It’s needless to add that I started imagining things. Thoughts started to appear in front of my eyes as they did in my head. Like Alice. As if tumbling down the rabbit hole and I saw all the things coming as if underneath me. Didn’t feel as free as a falling person might, though.

Reality melted with thoughts. Reality and thoughts melted into dreams. Reality, thoughts and dreams melted into nightmares. I asked myself what was the thing that kept me alive since obviously I wasn’t supposed to be?

Some nightmares started having fictional characters in them. People I didn’t know. Probably have seen them on a street while passing or something. Subconsciousness had saved their every detail. I started imagining them as my saviors. That they’d magically appear in my cell, set me free. Soon I believed that they are, almost started praying for them to hurry.

Surprisingly enough a woman stood out. I started focusing on her, since she seemed to notice me more than the rest of my imaginary characters. I think she talked to me or tried to, because her lips moved, but I never heard a sound that’d resemble human voice. The woman had fairly long, wavy ginger hair, always wore white coat. Doctor’s coat. I shuttered. She looked a bit older than myself, but had this look… probably it was her eyes… that looked so.. full of knowledge.

Once I imagined that she came into the cell and started undoing my restrains moving her lips as if talking to me. I think I smiled, but kept lying and watching her. The redhead stood next to me, still moving talking and looking very worried. I just kept smiling and called her my savior.

Suddenly the woman put her hands underneath my torso and.. The surprise was so great I didn’t even notice how she’d made me sit upright. I remember very clearly thinking “Next level of imagination?” I was so numb that couldn’t really tell reality from anything else. My body felt very heavy, but I couldn’t allow myself to even think of the possibility that this was real. No hope.”

Toilet Memoirs Pg1

Hello and welcome? I’ll be posting stuff I occasionally write. No, I’m not a writer and I don’t study anything writing-related, so please forgive my poor writing skills… I simply have too many ideas and I need a way how to get them out of my head. I’m posting them here, so perhaps someone will find them interesting… Here we go:

“We all have our inner demons and secrets that we wish we never had. Somebody once told me that it’s how we deal with them is what makes us human… Or was it a movie…? But there are some demons that are too much of a part of you to make you human.

Sometimes I have cravings that people call manic, unnatural and sick. I think so too in a way, but I can’t help to have them. They’re a part of me. My demons.

There’s this thing that everyone is after. The word ‘normal’ is what it’s called I think. There isn’t really a word for it, though. ‘Normal’ is the closest that I can think of… Anyway, that was what I was looking for as well.

I’m in semi-conscious state now. While I’m writing this… So please forgive if my story has some parts that seem like a part of a dream or are too complicated to understand. I’ll try my best to explain…

The whole thing started when my parents put me in a mental institution. You’ve probably heard what happens when one becomes a teenager. Lots of fights with parents. ‘Nobody understands me’ and all that bullshit. Well.. that’s what happened with me in a way… To be perfectly honest I don’t know when, why and how this happened or whoever might be responsible for it, but I started loosing weight dramatically. I know what you might think.. My parents were sure of it. ‘Anorectic’ they said. I laugh at the thought now, but it was pretty serious back then.

One morning I woke up in terrible feverish state. Covered all in cold sweat I felt nauseous. I don’t remember the details, but I couldn’t eat anything since then. Whenever I saw food I felt ill and when I tried eating I simply puked everything back out. I was sure I’ve caught some sort of virus and my parents were, too, but the funny part was that I’d be perfectly normal any other way.

It wasn’t long till my parents started sending me to a psychiatrist.. or was it a psychotherapist? I always mix them up… Anyway… it started with tests and whatnot, then pills and soon after I was put in a mental asylum.

It was terrible there, because first they fed me through a tube in my nostril. I kept puking everything out and nearly suffocated in my own vomit since they had to restrain me, for I kept pulling the tube out. Later they fed me literally through my vein. I don’t know what shit they put there, but it made me as sick as never before. Cold sweat, cramps, shivers and I felt like puking. Nothing came out naturally, since there was nothing but gastric acid.

They gave me millions different kind of medications to deaden my senses and bodily reflexes, but they didn’t help much. I stopped feeling the pain and cramps, yes… but the cramps continued, even though I didn’t feel them.

I was put on watch after that. They put me in a small room with a camera filming everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. I hated it. I got paranoid. After about three days they let me come out and socialize with other inmates, that didn’t help much. I felt out of place with all these insane people around me. I mostly kept to myself, but I started cracking up. After a week or so, I couldn’t help but to cry myself to sleep every night.

I started loosing track of time, but in a week or so they stopped giving me the meds. I loved that since my arms were all covered with small puncture wounds. I thought that finally I’ll start seeing things clearer. Nothing like that. I felt more depressed. Stopped talking to anyone. Including my parents that started visiting me less and less often. The doctors were clueless about everything. Mostly how was I still alive if I hadn’t eaten anything for so long. I did drink, though… It seemed that was the only thing I could get inside of me. Nothing too solid, though. Milkshakes came up as easily as they went down.”