Saturday, 30 April 2011

The Judge

Who deigns it fit to intrude upon the private bathings of a man of decent standing in the civil environs of this here town of simple God-fearing folk?

I came to lay mine own eyes upon a once kindred and marvel in contempt at the wretched works of accident or design of eye that led him so far from our common crucible.

It was by mine own hands by which the straps were hoisted upon the boots whose imprint marked the passage of mine own deeds.

As he said and spoke so, the Judge palmed the bare beacon of his hairless dome, splashing upon it the solution of his own dissolved filth - together with red stain of fallen slain - as if to defile the sacred baptismal ceremony itself; then, by dint of star-shooting sparks from a quick-struck flint, relit perched cigar on tin bath rim. Lungs billowed. Smoke rhythmically ascending. Ceiling.

Deal with it and move on, he said; beat.


  1. This is just a small homage to Cormac McCarthy's "Blood Meridian" which I finished late last night. The style is gloriously and gorily over-the-top. I much preferred to The Road which I found so tedious I abandoned it a third of the way through, J G Ballard's earlier "disaster" novels dealt with he same territory in a much more interesting manner. I also read McCarthy's "No Country for Old Men" which is a breeze to read and there's a dark humour to it missing in his other two works I mentioned.

    This post is an edit of a longer piece - I didn't like it much; these are a few lines I kept, which don't make sense without more context, but I like them. It's not set in a church as such, rather a frontier hotel/saloon bathroom - the confusion is understandable as it mimics McCarthy's mimicry of the Old Testimony in Western - cowboys & Indianans setting.

    Don't recall stepping into a church for at least two decades, except for one funeral, which was only notionally religious due to its setting, and I seem to recall the only songs played were 80's pop, Duran Duran, etc. Most people I know these days opt for civil ceremonies when it comes to marriage.

  2. :D the story really struck me as a kind of mambo voodoo ritual kind thang. I have not read the books you mention (saw the 'No Country...' movie) but I've read 'All the Pretty Horses' a title so sublimely misleading. I cannot remember the story but do remember how I felt after reading it, which is about the best anyone can hope for when reading (or indeed writing).

  3. p.s. well said on the Ballard thing: he did it all.