The Eternal Muse is Back.
It’s fucking 10am now.
I never got back to sleep after she came blasting through my door like Hurricane Infantile Ego for her 8am tantrum/feeding frenzy.
“Where WERE you for TWO fucking DAYS?!?!?” I asked.
“Catha Fezzze” she answered, stuffing her face with leftovers from my poor tiny raped fridge. She took a big sip of passion fruit juice. ”Casa Verde. Now shut the fuck up. No questions, Cigano. Menos…”
I went back up to my little loft bed.
And now its another blazing hot pre-summer morning outside my shuttered windows, just like it was almost 2 years ago when I first started documenting my day to day existence with Narcisa.
That casual little practice eventually pushed and shoved its way right into the forefront of my consciousness, emerging now as my first published novel, Narcisa- Our Lady of Ashes.
Now she’s fast asleep again, farting and snoring on my sofa as I lay up here in the loft bed above looking down at her in endless fascination and befuddlement.
Looking down at this devastating, compelling, paranormal creature, wracking my brains out under the lash of this merciless crackhead muse…
And I’m thinking, what a great fucking gig it must be for an eternal muse.
Just sit around all day smoking crack until you drop, then sleep the sleep of the righteous, waking up briefly from time to time only to bark out savage curses and orders and demands for food and drink and cigarettes.
Nice work if ya can get it..
I’m working on showing her what multiple orgasms feel like too, as well as the desire to survive an unhappy, abusive childhood and, eventually the will to live…
Little perks like that come with the job too, at least in my Narcisa’s case..
Fucking eternal muse even merits a full time on-call sex therapist and life coach!
Nothing but the best for an eternal fucking muse. Awesome work if you can get it, and my only advise to most of the lazy, overfed American cunts is to get off their pampered TV-watching asses and lose about
40 lbs and take up whoring and we’ll talk…
And I think when I finally do depart this crappy little veil of tears, I’d really like to put my request in to the big mother upstairs to be reincarnated, whenever the old karma clock swings around, as a crack
smoking homicidal whore with a pathological bad attitude and a wee bit of mental and emotional retardation thrown in for good measure…
Why not?
It all seems to be working out pretty well for Narcisa.
Right now she is passed out like a dead sausage on my sofa.
Later, she’ll be firing up a rock…
And then after that… Well you get the picture, boys!
Another hard day’s work for my beloved eternal muse, Narcisa. Our Lady Of Ashes.
Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008.
NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.
