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Showing posts with label Brenton Booth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brenton Booth. Show all posts

Friday, February 9, 2024

New Poems: Brenton Booth

 


Crime and Punishment

 

She was 

the only

person

I'd show

my poems

to. She'd

always

say with

great

enthusiasm,

"Who wrote

that one?"

When I

replied,

"I did."

She would

say, "It

would have

been better

if you'd

said a famous

writer."

She was

studying 

law at the

big university

and was 

much smarter

than me.

One day she

told me 

she had been

accepted

into a special

reading 

group. There

was one 

outstanding

student 

picked from

a dozen

highly ranked

universities

worldwide

to fly to

Germany

for two weeks

and discuss

Dostoyevsky's

Crime and 

Punishment.

"It would 

cost $12,000

but be worth 

it. Imagine the

conversations!

Great minds

from around

the globe

coming together

for the express

purpose of

art," she said

with great

enthusiasm.

I told her it

was a waste 

of money.

She got angry

and stopped

speaking to

me. When

she returned

a few months 

later she called

me, immediately

apologized, 

asking me to

read her my

new poems: 

she really

missed hearing

them. I

never read

her another

poem. And 

never told 

her: how much

I missed her.

 

 


Tougher than a Million Wounded Phoenix

 

Poetry

isn't

 

about

success,

 

it's

about

 

survival.

One

 

word

following

 

the next.

Making

 

even the

worst

 

times

bearable.

 

 


A Poem for the Editor that Hated My 

Protagonist

 

Dear editor I

am thankful

for your 

prompt

response

to my recently

submitted

story. Really 

thrilled you

went for the

ghost thing

(honestly

didn't think

you would.)

As far as the

rewrite you

suggested

(the

protagonist

being

completely

unlikeable

and not 

deserving 

a happy

ending.)

It wasn't

something

I even

considered.

You'll be

glad to

know I am

using that

feedback

in this poem.

The same

protagonist

from my

submitted

story.

The same 

protagonist

from every

story I

write: me.

Enduring

yet another

luckless

ending.

 

 

Bio:Brenton Booth lives in Sydney, Australia. Poetry of his has appeared in Gargoyle, New York Quarterly, North Dakota Quarterly, Chiron Review, San Pedro River Review, Main Street Rag, Naugatuck River Review, Heavy Feather Review, and Nerve Cowboy. He has two full length collections available from Epic Rites Press.  

Friday, December 29, 2023

Brenton Booth's The Asylum Floor Blog

 


Find three poems by me which were recently posted on The Asylum Floor blog edited by the Australian writer Brenton Booth here: https://www.theasylumfloor.com/2023/12/three-poems-by-george-anderson.html

 

Brenton Booth has previously published four book anthologies of poets’ work through his excellent The Asylum Floor: Literature With A Sledgehammer series. 

#4 is available here: https://www.amazon.com/Asylum-Floor-4-Brenton-Booth/dp/1716437245

#3 https://www.amazon.com.au/Asylum-Floor-3-Wolfgang-Carstens/dp/0244233365



 


Issue 1 was reviewed by Bold Monkey here: https://georgedanderson.blogspot.com/2017/12/new-release-edited-by-brenton-booth.html

 

In November 2022 Booth initially opened his blog to the poets who had previously appeared in his anthologies. You will find terrific work on the blog by Alan Caitlin, Catfish McDaris, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Wendy Rainey, Matt Borczon, Mather Schneider and others. 


Booth has now opened his blog to general submissions: theasylumfloor@gmail.com


Purchase Brenton Booth’s terrific poetry collection Bash the Keys Until They Scream here:https://www.amazon.com/Bash-Keys-Until-They-Scream/dp/1926860624

Monday, January 20, 2020

New Release: The Asylum Floor 3 (Edited by Brenton Booth) 100 pages


The latest volume of Asylum Floor, edited by Australian writer Brenton Booth, is soon to be released. You will find terrific work by a  variety of underground gurus including Rob Plath, Catfish McDaris, Dave Roskos, Todd Cirillo, Mather Schneider, Janne Karlsson, Matt Borazon, Wolfgang Carstens and others. 

The work which most impressed me was the poetry by Wendy Rainey and Alan Caitlin. Wolfgang Carsten's short story 'The Night I Poisoned My Wife' alone is worth what you shell out for the book.

Sick of insipid literature? Buy the anthology here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/wolfgang-carstens-and-catfish-mcdaris-and-matt-borczon-and-janne-karlsson/the-asylum-floor-3/paperback/product-24393235.html

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Book Review- Brenton Booth: Bash the Keys Until They Scream (Epic Rites Press, 2019) 106 pages


This is Sydney writer Brenton Booth’s second full-length poetry collection published by Epic Rites Press. The book was two years in the making and consists of fifty-seven poems and three short stories. The writing is highly accessible, of considerable underground cred and usually told from the point of view of Robert, a young aspiring writer.

In the interview which follows this review, Booth says candidly of his speaker, “I often write with the name Robert Blake. It is a name I came up with about 15 years ago. For a reader it is best not to get to caught-up with our similarities though. Some stuff is the same, but other stuff is far, far off. My writing is not autobiography. It is literary. I create poems or stories to achieve a certain effect or point.”

Robert’s name is only mentioned twice directly in the collection: in the poem “The Loser” and in the short story “Angel of Death”. Although the events described take place over a period many years, the voice of the speaker is remarkably consistent.  “Robert” is a young man who lives alone in an apartment building in Sydney, Australia. He takes drugs, frequents bars and whorehouses, writes poetry and is constantly broke, moving from one dead end job to the next. He loves watching cage fighting, sometimes has suicidal thoughts, is an non-believer and has a strong affinity for the weak and bullied.

“From the Ashes” is a strong representative Booth poem which incorporates most of these narrative and thematic elements. The language is simple, matter-of-fact and largely understated:

FROM THE ASHES

I am at home on the second
day of a 2 day hangover
broke and worried I might
lose my job
my boss called earlier
asking where the hell I
have been the past few
days
thinking about the 1500
dollars I spent on a hooker
and all the years I have
spent alone-
pounding away at my 
already beaten will
trying my best not to
give in:
to keep the hell away from
the kitchen drawer-
problem is I can’t think of
anyone that would miss
me
the hooker said she liked
me and would give me a
freebee next time she comes
to Sydney to work from
Newcastle:
it would definitely be nice
to see her again
but you can never tell with
them
I then get a message from
a girl I met 10 months
ago
I can’t believe it:
maybe there are gods,
I respond: would you like
to come over?
but already know the
first time in hours
how this night
will end.

(both poems in this review are posted with the permission of the poet)

Prostitutes feature predominately in many other poems in this collection. Whore poems include: “The Nicest Whore I Ever Met”, “Dream Lover”, “An Answer”, “The Young Beautiful Hooker” , “A Strange Whore” and the wonderfully named “A Poem For The Hooker That Took All My Cash And Gave Me An Infection”. The speaker Robert has a fascination with call girls. He enjoys the quick, hard sex but even more, the intimate banter he engages in afterwards- in a kind of weird parody of a relationship we see, for example, in Travis Bickle’s portrayal in Taxi Driver. 

Asked why he features so many hookers and dysfunctional woman in his work, Booth replies, “One reason I write about hookers is because I haven’t really read anyone that writes honestly about them. You read all this ‘joy of sex’ crap written by young girls who aren’t hookers. I have talked to a lot of hookers, in great detail, and believe their stories should be told. They are silent voices in society. Like old men and women, junkies, nerds, outcasts, etc. And I like to give these people a voice through my work. I also believe everyone is dysfunctional. There are those that know it, and those that should know it. I hold the magnifying glass to mine, and everyone else’s faults.”

The stunning book’s jacket is designed by Robert Hansen of poems-for-all fame: https://poems-for-all.com  Asked about Hansen’s participation in this project, Booth explained, “He used images from the 3 stories that finish the collection and give it its meaning. I liked the covers Robert Hansen did for John Yamrus’ “I Admit Nothing” and Matt Borczon’s “Battle Lines”. Robert had previously published a few poems of mine in his Poems-For-All mini book series and I was very happy with the results. I asked Wolfgang Carstens if it would be O.K with him if I asked Robert to do the cover and he gave me the green light. And thankfully Robert agreed to do the cover.”

The title of the book echoes Bukowski’s 1979 masterpiece Play The Piano Drunk Like A Percussion Instrument Until The Fingers Begin To Bleed A Bit.  Asked about this similarity, Booth tells me, “ I actually came up with the title about 8 years ago drinking bourbon at a bar I was fired from 10 years earlier. It was the first time I had ever been back there. The title just popped into my head and I quickly wrote it down and never told it to anyone until I sent the manuscript to Wolfgang. You have to be careful with titles. I have about a dozen I have never told anyone that I will hopefully get to use one day. The thing about “Bash the Keys Until They Scream” is it worked perfectly for this collection, which spans my time as a young writer trying to find his literary voice and place in life, to an older writer getting regularly published and comfortable with who he is and where he has ended up. ‘The keys of course being a typewriter, not a piano.”

“Fish Tank” is another understated poem in the collection which uses the symbol of dead fish and an empty tank to strikingly represent the failure of the couple’s relationship:

FISH TANK

Just after we started
going out she bought
a fish tank and three
small fish
“I have been looking
at them for a while
in the pet shop, but
never bought them
because I have been
trying to save money;
but now you are with
me, I am so happy, I
don’t care about
money. I have given
them names: Gertrude,
Cecily, and Beatrice. I
want you to have
Beatrice. She is lovely
and beautiful like you,”
she said
I didn’t really want a
fish and changed the
subject
over the next few months
the fish died one by
one
until there was nothing
left but an empty
fish tank
and not long after
an empty apartment
and 3 small ghosts
far wiser
than me. 

Innocence trampled by bullying, or parental neglect or by an encroaching evil adult world is a common concern in Booth’s work. The childhood reminiscences “Riding Skateboards In The Afternoon”, “Fighting In The Playground” and “Summertime” show the speaker Robert to be both picked on and a defender of the bullied. “Girl In A Box”, “Murder By Numbers”, “Fighting Years” and “Creek” offer further perspectives on the traumatic passage into adulthood.

For Booth’s persona Robert, the ultimate challenge is to defeat life’s daily miseries and to survive and to hopefully develop as a person. Pills help, women help, whiskey helps, but what keeps Robert grounded and away from the “knives in the kitchen drawer”, is the hope what writing may bring to his life. 

In “the Artists” the speaker remarks that the poem is “as important as breath”. The meta-poem “For Lost Friends” concludes: “this poem was/ written for all of those/ that couldn’t" find hope “to want to live/ another day”. In the powerful poem “Confession” the speaker relates a transformative anecdote about how a mate gave his book to a friend who threatened “to kill himself”. After reading the book over and over again, the guy is saved, for now. He says to Robert, “I thought my/ life was terrible/ That I was the/ only one. Then/ I read your poems./ And realised I/ wasn’t the only/ one. Thank you.”

Booth says of the palliative nature of his writing, for himself and others, “I originally started writing because I was moved by the plays of Anton Chekhov. They really got me out of a bad personal jam. And I think about that a lot when I write: the potential to really affect the life of another through your work.” 

The three short stories at the end of the collection add a different dimension to Booth’s writing. The best of the three is “The Last Fight” about a declining cage fighter Billy ‘Beat Down’ Henderson who is asked to throw a fight in New York City for an up and coming darling of the mob who run the industry. Events start to lose their grip as the crowd sense an upset.

Bash the Keys Until They Scream is a grim but credible howl from a determined young Australian writer. Booth lived in King’s Cross, Sydney’s red-light district for twelve years and in his personal life certainly knows about walking the plank, with the “burning ground underneath”. As Booth matures as a writer, he is continuing to learn how to kickbox his way out of the straight-jacket of Bukowski inspired writing, which over the last couple of decades has cloned far too many insipid clowns.



INTERVIEW WITH BRENTON BOOTH 18 FEBRUARY 2019

Brenton, congratulations on your latest book “Bash the Keys Until They Scream”. Can you briefly describe the process of writing, assembling, preparing for submission and publication that your latest book entailed?

The publisher, Wolfgang Carstens, gave me a lot of freedom with this book. He originally asked me for a “selected works”. I told him I would love to put together a collection of poems and stories with the same free, innovative, uncompromising spirit of Miller’s “Black Springs,” and Bukowski’s “Love Is A Dog From Hell”. He thought it was a great idea. It took us nearly 2 years, a lot of headaches and confusion, lots of living and writing. But I am happy with the results. 

I really dig the cover! Can you explain Robert Hansen of Poems-For-All involvement in the project?

I really like what he did with the cover as well. He used images from the 3 stories that finish the collection and give it its meaning. I liked the covers Robert Hansen did for John Yamrus’ “I Admit Nothing” and Matt Borczon’s “Battle Lines”. Robert had previously published a few poems of mine in his Poems-For-All mini book series and I was very happy with the results. I asked Wolfgang Carstens if it would be O.K with him if I asked Robert to do the cover and he gave me the green light. And thankfully Robert agreed to do the cover. He later confessed to me that reading the book cured an artistic block he was experiencing: it was so powerful to him.

The title of your book is strikingly similar to Bukowski’s “Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Bleed A Bit”. Was this an intended tribute to the man or for other motives? 

I am not sure why. I like the Bukowski title. I like most of his titles. Catfish McDaris once said to me: “I write titles like him and Bukowski.” I agreed with that. Our titles are mostly “action” titles: rarely a simple word or casual phrase. I actually came up with the title about 8 years ago drinking bourbon at a bar I was fired from 10 years earlier. It was the first time I had ever been back there. The title just popped into my head and I quickly wrote it down and never told it to anyone until I sent the manuscript to Wolfgang. You have to be careful with titles. I have about a dozen I have never told anyone that I will hopefully get to use one day. The thing about “Bash the Keys Until They Scream” is it worked perfectly for this collection, which spans my time as a young writer trying to find his literary voice and place in life, to an older writer getting regularly published and comfortable with who he is and where he has ended up. “The Keys” of course being a typewriter, not a piano. 

In the book you present a consistent detailed portrait of the speaker who is known as Robert in the poem “The Loser” and short story “Angel of Death”. Is Robert the speaker of all the first person poems and stories and to what extent do you share similar traits and aspirations of the speaker? 

I often write with the name Robert Blake. It is a name I came up with about 15 years ago. For a reader it is best not to get to caught-up with our similarities though. Some stuff is the same, but other stuff is far, far off. My writing is not autobiography. It is literary. I create poems or stories to achieve a certain effect or point. For instance “Angel of Death” never happened. I put a lot of time into that story. It is one of the few stories I wrote a scene map for before I started writing it. It is a story that will upset a lot of people. But they probably didn’t take the time to read the whole thing. And never got to its real meaning. 

Why the preference for hooker and dysfunctional women in your poems?

One reason I write about hookers is because I haven’t really read anyone that writes honestly about them. You read all this “joy of sex” crap written by young girls who aren’t hookers. I have talked to a lot of hookers, in great detail, and believe their stories should be told. They are silent voices in society. Like old men and women, junkies, nerds, outcasts, etc. And I like to give these people a voice through my work. I also believe everyone is dysfunctional. There are those that know it, and those that should know it. I hold the magnifying glass to mine, and everyone else’s faults.

Moving onto your writing processes, do you have a set routine, for example, do you write everyday and do you usually extensive revise your work?

I think about writing all day. No matter what I am doing. I am always thinking about what is going on inside me, and around me, and if I could turn that into a poem or story. Some stuff comes in one go without any revisions. Other stuff comes quickly but takes weeks, sometimes years to get right. Other stuff has taken several years to write. I recently wrote a poem about Tennessee Williams relationship with his mentally ill sister that took 14 years. A few poems have taken similar times to that. 

Do you have a specific reader in mind when you write?


I don't write for any particular reader type. I simply write the best I can. About as many subjects and different points of view as I can. And hopefully reach as wide an audience as possible. And if my work somehow moves them or brings some laughter, hope or reprieve- I have achieved what I have set out to do. I originally started writing because I was moved by the plays of Anton Chekhov. They really got me out of a bad personal jam. And I think about that a lot when I write: the potential to really affect the life of another through your work. I therefore take writing very seriously. And always try to go as far as possible with every piece I do.


What is the overall importance of poetry in your life?

Writing is my life.

It took many years before your writing was finally accepted for publication. What advice would you give to a young writer thinking about getting published in the small alternative press for the first time?


I started writing when I was 19 and didn't send anyone until I was 23. At the time I was still learning but had a lot to say and the occasional strong poem would come out. I didn't get published until I was 33. I originally only sent to The New Yorker, The Atlantic Monthly and all the bigger publications. I got close a few times, but never published. It was frustrating. But I knew the reason I wrote was not to get published, sure it would be nice, but it wasn't the most important thing to me then: and still isn't. The most important thing to me as a writer is writing as good as I possibly can. And when I do that is the real success. And if you look at writing this way, you will live your work, it will be the most important thing, and rejections won't do too much damage. A question I regularly ask myself is: would I show this piece to my favourite dead writer? If the answer is yes, you are exactly where you need to be. And you should send your stuff to as many publications as possible. For as long as it takes to get accepted.


Any future plans? Any new books on the back burner? 

Just write as much as possible. I have been writing a lot lately. No new books. I am really happy with this one. I don’t want to be a writer that releases books all the time. I’d prefer to put something together that took a long time to do and means a great deal to me. I did that with Bash the Keys Until They Scream. Thanks for the interview.

No worries! I really enjoyed the challenge!



For an earlier Bold Monkey interview with Brenton Booth check out this one on the release of his book Punching the Teeth From the Sky (2016): https://georgedanderson.blogspot.com/2016/06/book-review-interview-brenton-booth.html

Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Book Review/ Interview: The Asylum Floor #2: Literature With A Sledgehammer (2018) 110 pages


This is the latest edition of the literary journal edited by Brenton Booth. It features the poems, short stories and illustrations of alterative small press icons such as Wolfgang Carstens, Victor Clevenger, Ryan Quinn Flanagan & many others, as well as the poetry, sketches and cover art of the late great Jack Micheline.

Standouts in the anthology include Matt Borczon’s post- Afghani PTSD poem, “Everything Is Just Because It Is”, Dave Roskos’s dry wit in “Analogue”, Clevenger’s poems “Forced Sober” & “She Had Never Tried Wine”, Janne Karlsson’s mad but profound scribbles and Wolfgang Carstens’ short story “The Human Zoo”.


Yesterday, I asked Brenton a few questions about his involvement in this project: 

INTERVIEW WITH BRENTON BOOTH 4 December 2018

What was your overall idea for the book?

As a writer I am constantly aware through my personal submission process and reading modern lit mags of the 'no go' zones for publishing. Writing that says a lot, writing that challenges, writing that purposely seeks to disgust, writing that aims for more than words on a page, writing as a reward in itself, writing to live. The purpose of The Asylum Floor is to give a platform where good writers can express themselves without the censorship of publishing. The Asylum Floor is also about promoting each writers work as best I can. Each issue I purchase over 100 copies that are distributed internationally through the contributors in their local areas to get every ones’ words read by as many people possible. It comes at a cost, but I believe in every writer I publish and the importance of good writing, and that is far greater than money. 

What do you mean by the phrase "Literature with a sledgehammer?"

It is a homage to Friedrich Nietzsche who has had a big influence on me as an artist. It is also the theme of the journal. The Asylum Floor isn't about subtlety; it is about making a statement: preferably a violent one! 

How did you go about selecting the writers and sequencing their order in the book?

I read a lot of lit mags and the writers I admire and think are suitable I contact. Obviously there are still many I haven't published yet. But if I continue with the journal I eventually will. There are also great writers that I like that simply aren't right for the journal. Just because I don't publish someone doesn't mean I don't like their writing, I am no judge of good or bad writing: no one is. I simply publish what I think is right for the journal. I have been pretty fortunate so far. Everyone but one person has accepted my offer to contribute. And they have all sent some fine work my way. Once I accept the work for the issue. I read over it all many times. And put a lot of thought into the best order. My idea is to get a nice journey for the reader rather than just arranging it alphabetically. I hope I achieve this. 

How did you find the editing process?

I enjoy it. I get to work with great writers I admire. And see really good work. Some writers I specifically ask for certain things from. For example, from Catfish McDaris I requested nonfiction on artists. He contributed great pieces on Van Gogh and Dali. Other writers I have requested specific pieces I had previously seen and thought would work. Though the majority of the work in The Asylum Floor is previously unpublished. Getting the right material and putting it together is a lot of work, but also very rewarding.

How did you obtain material from the Jack Micheline Foundation?

I originally asked contributor Catfish McDaris if he could write a nonfiction on his relationship with friend Jack Micheline and the publishing of their chapbook "Prying", which also included Micheline's friend Charles Bukowski. Catfish wasn't able to but recommended the amazing Micheline poem "It Is Not Here On Earth What I Am Seeking" and recommended I contact Jack Micheline's son (a friend of his) to get permission to use it. I did and he was fantastic. He gave me permission to publish the poem and also sent me several of Micheline's paintings to use for the cover image and in the journal. He was very generous. And I am honoured to publish his father’s great work. 

Will there be a #3?

Not sure yet. Good chance though. 


Brenton Booth is a Sydney, Australia writer. His upcoming book Bash the Keys Until They Scream will be published by Epic Rites Press in January 2019.

Sunday, December 3, 2017

New Release: Edited by Brenton Booth The Asylum Floor : Literature with a sledgehammer Issue #1 (Lulu, 2017) 94 pages


This new literary journal is edited by Sydney writer Brenton Booth and is devoted to “hard edged writing”. It features mainly poems and short stories by small press luminaries, such as, Wolfgang Carstens, Catfish McDaris, Matt Borczon, Janne Karlsson and Brenton Booth himself.  Perhaps the star of the collection is lesser known outlaw poet “James Decay”. A few previous poems from the Spokane resident can be found on-line in Gutter Eloquence and Midnight Lane Gallery- the latter which is linked below.

Booth explained to me yesterday the idea behind his journal The Asylum Floor: “I was going for something a little different with it. My intention was more pages by each writer to give a clearer picture of them. And to break free of the conservatism of publishing that chokes modern journals.” His only brief to the featured writers was simple, “It is anything goes, as long as it is well written. I told the contributors to only send me the stuff they would normally not bother sending because it says too much etc.”

The collection integrates the work of the six writers and includes many strong pieces. The emphasis is on character portraits and common underground themes, such as, substance abuse, explicit sex, suicide and the madness of everyday living. Interestingly, The Asylum Floor also includes the first published short stories by Epic Rites Press guru Wolf Carstens, the best being “The Mauler”.

Booth is “really not sure if there will ever be another issue” of the journal. “If there is, it will be an annual thing.” This project is ambitious and Booth has stuck his neck out, solidifying his position as a leading Australian underground writer and now editor.

Brenton Booth is interviewed by Marcia Epstein on Talk With ME: https://player.fm/series/talk-with-me/brenton-booth-writer (Booth talks about his writing history and processes and reads several of his poems. The audio is dodgy from the Australian feed and you need to be patient to preservere).

Saturday, March 4, 2017

Short Story- Candy Johnson by Brenton Booth













Some M rated (15+) content below.

CANDY JOHNSON

I met her in a bar on Darlinghurst Street. She told me she was a regular there. I lived close to it and had walked past it many times over the years but had never gone in there before. I rarely went to bars. I found bars in Sydney too expensive, full of big-mouthed boring people with over the top drinking laws designed to keep all the conservatives happy. I normally just drank at home, the music was always better, and I wouldn’t be giving away all my murdered hours at work to someone that didn’t deserve them. Though tonight was pretty miserable, cold, raining, my apartment felt like a goddamned igloo. And I’d also just won a few hundred on an mma fight. I bet against this featherweight Irish punk who had won a handful of fights against mostly nobodies and all of a sudden thought he was invincible. When it was announced he was fighting the hard faced Mexican kid from California, I knew he would get his ass handed to him. He actually did better than I thought he would in the first round. He cut my bet up pretty good, but did no real damage other than blood, and blood had never bothered him before. The second round started and the Irishman looked exhausted, he tried to shrug it off with his regular stupid bravado, but my bet quickly hit him with a few good punches right on the jaw and took him down and tapped him out like a beginner.

She told me her name was Candy Johnson. “ Is that your real name, or your professional name,” I said.

“ Fuck you.”

“ Hey calm down! I was only joking.”

“ You want to make it up to me, buy me a drink.”

“ I don’t buy women drinks. And I only just met you, and don’t really give a damn about your overly sensitive feelings. If you want to keep talking to me, you buy me one.”

Candy gave me a strange look. It confused me. She then stood up and left the bar. I didn’t care. I hadn’t been with a woman for months now, that’s if you count hookers. If not, it had been several years. I just lost interest in the bullshit: all of the lying and pretending positive to hook them. That crap wasn’t for me anymore. Life was tough enough already without that shit! I stood up and put some coins in the jukebox. I put on Neil Young’s ‘Hey, Hey’. I’d seen a really good film once and that song was the theme song and it had always stayed with me. I went to the bar and ordered another bourbon and sat back down at my table.

I felt someone put their hand on my left shoulder. I did nothing for a second. Then grabbed their wrist and turned as quickly as I could. This poor sucker was really in for it—I wasn’t taking any shit tonight! I was about to let loose when I noticed it was Candy. I let go of her wrist. She had a dazed look on her face. “ Why the fuck did you do that! I could have hurt you!” I said.

“ You couldn’t hurt me.”

“ Whatever you say. Look I am going. It was nice meeting you, I guess.”

I headed for the door shaking my head. What a fucked up night this was turning out to be. The bouncer was eyeing me hard. He’d obviously been watching everything. Fuck him! If he was game, so was I. I hadn’t had a fight for a while, but this seemed a good night for one. He blocked the doorway. I stopped a few feet from him waiting for him to make the first move.

“ Wait! I just wanted to buy you a drink. I was going to ask you what you drank before you got mad. And besides, I love this song. I have never heard it played here before,” said Candy pulling me away from the bouncer and sitting me back down, “ so what do you drink?”

“ Bourbon.”

“ Now don’t kill anyone while I am gone.”

“ I will try my best.”

Candy went to the bar and I looked back at the bouncer. He was having an argument with a group of teenagers about their age—what an asshole!

Candy returned with 4 glasses. 2 each. She had some real potential.

We drank until the lights came on and they kicked us out. By that time I had forgiven the bouncer and shook his hand on the footpath. Candy took me back to her place. It was a big 1 bedroom on the 10th floor of a large apartment building on the good end of Victoria Street. It was a really nice place, with a decent size balcony and city views. She must have had a decent job: lucky we didn’t go back to my crappy place.

I sat on her black leather sofa and she went to get some drinks.
She came back with them on a tray. “ Practicing to be a waitress,” I said.

“ Take a closer look.”

I noticed a small bag of what looked like coke next to the drinks. “ Happy,” she said.

“ Very happy.”

We started on the coke and were pretty soon naked.

We fucked on the balcony then went to bed.

I woke the next morning feeling really strange. Where the fuck was I? There was something digging into my arm. I lifted the sheet off me. Holy shit! The inside of the sheet was covered in dozens of human cocks that had been sewn onto it. I couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was this! Was I dreaming? The bedroom door opened and a good looking blonde around my age came in.

“Are you ok?” she said.

“Who are you? And where the fuck am I?”

She paused a moment, as if upset in some way. “ You don’t remember. I am Candy. This is my apartment.”

“I must have been drunker last night than I thought. Did we fuck?”

“Ask the neighbours.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just a joke.”

“Look Candy I have to leave.”

“You can’t leave yet, I made a special breakfast for you.”

I looked again at the sheet. “ Don’t worry about that. I like you.”

“I still have to leave,” I said and got dressed and left.

I saw her again a few days later. We fucked but this time I didn’t sleep at her place.

This went on for the next few weeks.

 I got the feeling she was falling in love with me. She started acting weird and possessive. This was definitely what I didn’t want to happen. I told her I wouldn’t be seeing her again.
 A few weeks later I started thinking about her. I was really a fool. She was one hell of a good woman and I had treated her like crap. I decided to go and see her and apologise and hopefully she would still be interested.
 I knocked on her door. There was no answer. I tried a few more times and exactly the same thing.
 On the way out of the building I bumped into her next door neighbour Danielle.
“I just went to Candy’s but she wasn’t there,” I said.

She didn’t respond. Candy must have told her what an asshole I was. I understood and walked off. “ Wait!” she said.

 “ Yes.”

 “ You don’t know, do you?”

“ What?”

 “ Candy’s dead.”

 “ Really!”

 “ Yea. She choked on her sheet. They found her body 10 days ago. But apparently she had been dead several days by then. I honestly don’t know how someone could choke on a sheet.”

 “I think I do,” I said and walked away thinking about Candy.