Shitastic Day (aka Rage in a Cage)

I embraced the day with all the fervour and life lust of a jilted lover. It even feels like an effort monumental to draw breath at this time, my lungs so congested with disgust as they are. It’s surely one of those days where constriction breeds contempt, when one is roused to a rage by the clarity brought on by sight. Look out the window and what do I see? The same insignificant bipedal insects, sneering and screeching under the cover of Nike and Adidas, having the nerve to call their existence of circular motion “life”. Eat, drink, shit, piss, fart, fuck, work, breed, die – ever again and again and again and again! What’s the point? Is this what life amounts to in this backwater of a borough located in a shithole of a city?

I’m convinced that Newham – perhaps even London – is a place where dreams come to die. You can almost hear their futile whimperings as they’re smothered slowly to sleep, never again to waken. The same stale slate of grey adorns the sky, only to be later deluged by the crude oil of night. One gets bored of sitting in, letting the day fly by, but contemplating the alternative – boredom, bludgeoning and asphyxiation in the open air – makes one’s chest tighten, as if in the grip of an anaconda.

And the worst thing about being stuck in a cage, spinning a hamster’s wheel of hatred? Having no idea how to escape your predicament, simply sliding into the comfort of repetition, of redundancy – of ever diminishing returns. Grand plans floating further and further into the nebula with each turn of the wheel. How long till the batteries run down and one has to resort to being plugged into the same powerline as the rest of the peons, just to keep going? How I wish to pull the plug on their pathetic lives and watch them all fall to the floor in a domino dance. But where would that leave me? Still under the strangled sun, long raped of its radiance – a disc drowned under a current of clouds. The perfect metaphor for the fractured, frail humanity below, swilling in the shit of a slow, salacious suicide….

If this be life, hand me the Magnum – NOW!


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6 Responses to Shitastic Day (aka Rage in a Cage)

  1. ubermensch says:

    as far as locations go, you could still do worse. there is nothing stopping you from sitting down and writing all that you will– many have written under much worse circumstances. I wrote raberata in hofors, a small town in sweden my gramma lives in (was visiting for summer), where there is NOTHING to do, and the average age of the population has to be 50 or so. Adolf Hitler, a grantedly un-admirable figure, wrote his manifesto while in prison. On the other side of the spectrum, marxist theorist antonio gramsci acted similarly, churning out thousands of pages of notebooks of marxist analysis while in mussolini’s prisons. “the ego and its own” a prestigious work if there ever was one, was written by a quiet man in a dead end job teaching at a girl’s highschool. do not blame your geography for the slaying of dreams

  2. A prison is a prison is a prison – when I feel trapped and nearing depression I start small. Change one thing I do not like about my life, and stay focused on it until the next opportunity. Not every significant change looks enormous to the outside world…
    (For whatever it’s worth, I travelled enough when I was younger to find that most people live out cycles like the one you describe without question. It’s not a matter of geography – ignorance is universal. I’m just glad to have the internet available so I can reach out and find a few good minds out there.)

  3. All I have to say is ” If you are hating you ain’t creating”. I guess I’m not the only on my friends list with the new Satyricon. I thought it was hyped up too much IMO.
    Dreams only die if you let them.

    • MRDA says:

      Well the hating can be an aid to creating …until it gets the better of it..
      And the Satyricon track’s off a magazine demo disk – not too familiar with them overall as a band, but I rather like that tune…

  4. newedition says:

    This is a fabulous entry. It’s of course not fabulous that you are experiencing this type of surrounding and feeling, but your description is quite clear and descriptive. It is exactly how I would describe my feelings about London Ontario if I were as good of a writer as you 🙂 Try to ignore them… they are worthless…

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