I really love this, I actually like this style of writing, it reminds me of a short story I read by Clarice Lispector...can’t remember the name of it but I have one of her books. The writing kind of undulates and takes you on a journey with no pause of breaks..it’s kind of hard work to read but beautiful and creates a different experience. In A Washer For The Wishing Well, you get a sense of what's going on even though it doesn’t adhere to the traditional rules of writing.
This reminded me of modern art... a disgusting jumble of anything and nothing all smashed into a single piece of art... The uninitiated just look at it, say how rotten it looks, then scoff about how it's 'only for the elite classes'... HOWEVER, anyone who knows the author, his works and his colourful life, have a very different take... Some of us see the exquisite beauty of how the wordsmith spins his story, others just understand they don't have a fucking clue about half the words and phrases, yet still gleefully swallow the filth from an artist we know, love and respect. I'm certainly the latter, dear reader, I have not one Scooby fucking Doo what half of that said, but fuck my tight lilly white hairy arse did I enjoy that. Thank you, Danger, for another exciting trudge through the sullied bridleway of your learned mind.
Nice one Chris. You had my stomach churning at rayon sheets.
I was lurking in the kitchen during the stream tonight. Nearly cut my finger off in rage when you said playing bass is easy!! Only Kidding, I never bite on old chestnuts lol.
Having the lived experience of deciphering my own wifes texts, your almost clockworkian style conjured a rush of poetical technicolour inducing visual adjectives, painting glimpses of the grotesque.
Bloke I did rehab with had a massive hole in his leg Doctors put maggots in the wound to eat the rotten flesh, stank to high heaven even when freshly bandaged like the deadest fish ever. Not sure on this one Danger, couldn't understand half of it and wasn't sure if I was reading poetry Shakespeare or both lol still give you a ⭐though have a blessed day x
Interesting departure from usual style but well suited to the bleak but dramatic scenario. A cacophony of lyrical brutality in a stream of consciousness peppered with quite vivid poetic descriptiveness. Dangerfield's skill is in capturing the duality of the junkie mindset of being totally engrossed in a situation whilst simultaneously not giving a fuck.
A detached focus if you will. Easy to do but hard to capture in writing.
The tarot card affixed to the door by a dart was profundity itself. It's dislodgement by junk was pure metaphorical genius.
In praise of this piece its style made me think of a police statement of a small, hopeful but ultimately tragic event, given by Irvine Welsh handcuffed to James Joyce, both off their heads and telling the same tale at the same time to a largely disinterested police officer.
You are instantly emerged in the equally horrific and hilarious world he paints and builds upon with each story.
It's surreal, alien yet recognisable. Like finding yourself I'm really rough working man's club and you're out of your depth and you sense danger but you daren't leave.
Lots of death. H. epidemic? Like in Germany. Christianne F. How DO people get like that. No grapefruit juice in machines that mix it in see-through tanks and dispense it under like vodka. (Rehab memory)
This felt more of a style piece than most of your other pieces. The language was playful but angry. "care home cock" is a brutal little triplet indeed. I enjoyed having to unravel the slurred talk of those involved and how that morphed back into the cold clarity of the last few lines was certainly effective.
"a house with no love"
I think of this kind of piece as a short, sharp shock. A strong little picture, to take. The sadness is appropriately numb but I liked reading it, just not while I was eating my lunch!!
Rank yet descriptive, ugly yet engrossing, the shadows and pits the undead find themselves in makes for messy yet compelling reading, another good bit of writing matey.
I'll admit that I struggled at first, it seemed chaotic and difficult to parse but by the end it was flowing like poetry. So much so that I went back to the beginning and read it all over again.
Genius Mr. D, Nick's gammy, suppurating calf seems an unlikely place for such vibrant prose to spring from but spring it did!
I care what you think about my work. So, let me know.
I really love this, I actually like this style of writing, it reminds me of a short story I read by Clarice Lispector...can’t remember the name of it but I have one of her books. The writing kind of undulates and takes you on a journey with no pause of breaks..it’s kind of hard work to read but beautiful and creates a different experience. In A Washer For The Wishing Well, you get a sense of what's going on even though it doesn’t adhere to the traditional rules of writing.
Well done!!
This reminded me of modern art... a disgusting jumble of anything and nothing all smashed into a single piece of art... The uninitiated just look at it, say how rotten it looks, then scoff about how it's 'only for the elite classes'... HOWEVER, anyone who knows the author, his works and his colourful life, have a very different take... Some of us see the exquisite beauty of how the wordsmith spins his story, others just understand they don't have a fucking clue about half the words and phrases, yet still gleefully swallow the filth from an artist we know, love and respect. I'm certainly the latter, dear reader, I have not one Scooby fucking Doo what half of that said, but fuck my tight lilly white hairy arse did I enjoy that. Thank you, Danger, for another exciting trudge through the sullied bridleway of your learned mind.
Nice one Chris. You had my stomach churning at rayon sheets.
I was lurking in the kitchen during the stream tonight. Nearly cut my finger off in rage when you said playing bass is easy!! Only Kidding, I never bite on old chestnuts lol.
My word you really paint a disgusting picture! I can almost smell the rotting flesh.
Having the lived experience of deciphering my own wifes texts, your almost clockworkian style conjured a rush of poetical technicolour inducing visual adjectives, painting glimpses of the grotesque.
Bloke I did rehab with had a massive hole in his leg Doctors put maggots in the wound to eat the rotten flesh, stank to high heaven even when freshly bandaged like the deadest fish ever. Not sure on this one Danger, couldn't understand half of it and wasn't sure if I was reading poetry Shakespeare or both lol still give you a ⭐though have a blessed day x
Great stuff
Interesting departure from usual style but well suited to the bleak but dramatic scenario. A cacophony of lyrical brutality in a stream of consciousness peppered with quite vivid poetic descriptiveness. Dangerfield's skill is in capturing the duality of the junkie mindset of being totally engrossed in a situation whilst simultaneously not giving a fuck.
A detached focus if you will. Easy to do but hard to capture in writing.
The tarot card affixed to the door by a dart was profundity itself. It's dislodgement by junk was pure metaphorical genius.
In praise of this piece its style made me think of a police statement of a small, hopeful but ultimately tragic event, given by Irvine Welsh handcuffed to James Joyce, both off their heads and telling the same tale at the same time to a largely disinterested police officer.
It shouldn't work ....and yet it does.
i was hearing about this author first in the new york times and was not disapointed.
Chris' stories are always an effortless read.
You are instantly emerged in the equally horrific and hilarious world he paints and builds upon with each story.
It's surreal, alien yet recognisable. Like finding yourself I'm really rough working man's club and you're out of your depth and you sense danger but you daren't leave.
I can't wait to read his book.
Lots of death. H. epidemic? Like in Germany. Christianne F. How DO people get like that. No grapefruit juice in machines that mix it in see-through tanks and dispense it under like vodka. (Rehab memory)
This felt more of a style piece than most of your other pieces. The language was playful but angry. "care home cock" is a brutal little triplet indeed. I enjoyed having to unravel the slurred talk of those involved and how that morphed back into the cold clarity of the last few lines was certainly effective.
"a house with no love"
I think of this kind of piece as a short, sharp shock. A strong little picture, to take. The sadness is appropriately numb but I liked reading it, just not while I was eating my lunch!!
Rank yet descriptive, ugly yet engrossing, the shadows and pits the undead find themselves in makes for messy yet compelling reading, another good bit of writing matey.
Can you add a few more commas in the next one?
I'll admit that I struggled at first, it seemed chaotic and difficult to parse but by the end it was flowing like poetry. So much so that I went back to the beginning and read it all over again.
Genius Mr. D, Nick's gammy, suppurating calf seems an unlikely place for such vibrant prose to spring from but spring it did!