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.
Clarice Lispector - AKA 'The Brazilian Kafka' if I remember rightly. I'll take that. It's good to know the rules of writing, better then be able to break them more successfully. Thank you, Gayle, much appreciated.
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.
Amazing comment, John. Nearly brought a tear to my eye did that. I knew this one was a risk for this platform, as I turned particular style volumes up to eleven. But since a lot of my novel is written a lot like this, you've given me something priceless, John - faith in my work. Really, thank you so much.
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.
There is definitely some Anthony Burgess in here, specifically that novel since no one really knows what other novels he wrote, and there were many (I did read his '1985' and 'One Hand Clapping' which is actually very good. Can't remember much of 1985 as I was drunk, but he interviews himself, which is a nice touch that only successful authors can get away with, but he does talk (and I guess it was written in the mid-seventies) about the rise of Islam as a political force in Britain. Cheers mate.
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
That's right, they treat a lot of infections like that because the maggots only eat the diseased flesh. Rank though, imagine feeling them all wriggling about. But if it's going to save your leg - which are quite important - probably worth it. I'll take Shakespeare. Cheers Liz, much appreciated. Best wishes.
Hello mate. All that time no one mentioned the cordovan boots. That's the real tragedy. Hmm...Cherries. Thanks for giving it a read and leaving a comment, it's really appreciated.
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.
Oh gosh, you put the work in and clearly got the goods. Cracking comment. Thank you so much for the detailed and considered comment, it really means a lot to me. Incredible!
You're welcome Chris. I believe you have a real talent for writing and it takes courage to put your creation out there to be criticised. Nothing would please me more than seeing you make a living from your writing which I reckon would fulfil you immensely. Keep going mate...you'll get there.
That's the dream, I'd be happy even just to have a decent amount of people read it, but being able to write full-time would be paradise. Finding the odd few hours here and there isn't ideal. But, and it's a big but - things could be a lot worse, so I'm not complaining. Cheers, mate.
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.
Hello Joe. I love this comment so much. I thought this short was quite a risk, as at first it seems to ask quite a lot of the reader, but if you just go with it, as it appears you did, you'll get something out of it. A lot of my novel is written much like this, which is why your comment is so encouraging. That's made my day, and trust me, it needed making.
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)
Hello Niamh. A record FIVE people unsubscribed for this piece. This grapefruit-machine was something you imagined. Or was it the strangest rehab in the world? Did you know grapefruit juice is a potentiator for benzos? There's certain compounds in grapefruit juice, primarily furanocoumarins, which inhibit the activity of a liver enzyme known as CYP3A4- which interferes with the metabolising of the benzo, causing it to last longer and be stronger. Legend has it a grapefruit farmer found out when he was prescribed diazepam, like 2ml a day and couldn't stand up because he'd have a pint of grapefruit juice for breakfast, How do people get like this? Usually - in my experience - neglectful, abusive, and loveless childhoods get the ball rolling, but since not everyone who lived through such things turn out like 'this', there are other factors on the way. That's the story though, Niamh, our protagonist here is the 'how' of people getting like this. Best wishes.
Thanks for your nice long reply Chris . Dr Chris!. Yes love is the answer. And citrus. Was a wonderful rehab . Some chap on Hampstead Road was making it easy for any Tom Dick and Harry to get in, bless him. Good wishes from UK
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!!
Cheers Ludwig. Interestingly, the manuscript I'm working on (you may have heard the rumours) changes style, like it's rolling down a history of literary tropes and ideas, picking up a bit of some here, losing a bit of others there, and continuing rolling along changing all the way. But not for the sake of it - but because it reflects the content - it tells its own story alongside the words, as all writing does, but to play with it intentionally, dare I say to subvert it, is definitely one of the most concerning aspects of my publication. Some people are going to be very disappointed. As usual. But others will get it, and if they do, they really will get it. How do you tell a story that's beyond words? They all are really. Words are a trap, but they're all we have, so we have to rattle the cage a bit here and there. It's late.
That you enjoyed unravelling the dialogue suggests you may quite like the manuscript, depending on how much unravelling you're up for.
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.
Cheers, Rob. Thankfully, or luckily, my long-form has some quite beautiful moments of decent humans connecting, so it's not just endless rankness. Thank you for taking the time to give another one a read and for leaving a comment. Much appreciated.
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!
Cheers Pete, I'll take a second reading all day long. Much appreciated. And yes, Nick's leg has made it's way into a few stories. I doubt I'll ever see him again; I'd put money on him no longer being with us, the truth be told. But it would be interesting if he was, to let him hear and read them. Unless, of course, they lopped it off and then I doubt he'd appreciate it..
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!!
Clarice Lispector - AKA 'The Brazilian Kafka' if I remember rightly. I'll take that. It's good to know the rules of writing, better then be able to break them more successfully. Thank you, Gayle, much appreciated.
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.
Amazing comment, John. Nearly brought a tear to my eye did that. I knew this one was a risk for this platform, as I turned particular style volumes up to eleven. But since a lot of my novel is written a lot like this, you've given me something priceless, John - faith in my work. Really, thank you so much.
Now that's a review 😂😂😂👍
The old boy absolutely nailed it, didn't he!
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.
I said it because I thought you might be out there somewhere! Thanks for giving it a read, Al, really appreciated.
I did suspect that Chris, last time you said it, I was on the call in 😉👍
The caveat 'It's only four strings' should have given the game away, and sounds like it did.
Well obviously I'm a five string player (ooh get me) but as bass players always say "Jaco only needed 4 strings" 🤣🤣
My word you really paint a disgusting picture! I can almost smell the rotting flesh.
Cheers Jon. Without that, it's just a story about a leg. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment. much appreciated.
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.
There is definitely some Anthony Burgess in here, specifically that novel since no one really knows what other novels he wrote, and there were many (I did read his '1985' and 'One Hand Clapping' which is actually very good. Can't remember much of 1985 as I was drunk, but he interviews himself, which is a nice touch that only successful authors can get away with, but he does talk (and I guess it was written in the mid-seventies) about the rise of Islam as a political force in Britain. Cheers mate.
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
'Like the deadest fish ever' - lol.
That's right, they treat a lot of infections like that because the maggots only eat the diseased flesh. Rank though, imagine feeling them all wriggling about. But if it's going to save your leg - which are quite important - probably worth it. I'll take Shakespeare. Cheers Liz, much appreciated. Best wishes.
Great stuff
Hello mate. All that time no one mentioned the cordovan boots. That's the real tragedy. Hmm...Cherries. Thanks for giving it a read and leaving a comment, it's really appreciated.
Thank you RPOW
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.
Oh gosh, you put the work in and clearly got the goods. Cracking comment. Thank you so much for the detailed and considered comment, it really means a lot to me. Incredible!
You're welcome Chris. I believe you have a real talent for writing and it takes courage to put your creation out there to be criticised. Nothing would please me more than seeing you make a living from your writing which I reckon would fulfil you immensely. Keep going mate...you'll get there.
That's the dream, I'd be happy even just to have a decent amount of people read it, but being able to write full-time would be paradise. Finding the odd few hours here and there isn't ideal. But, and it's a big but - things could be a lot worse, so I'm not complaining. Cheers, mate.
i was hearing about this author first in the new york times and was not disapointed.
Yes, the word is out now. I'll no longer be our dirty little secret. Cheers, Hans. Nice one.
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.
Hello Joe. I love this comment so much. I thought this short was quite a risk, as at first it seems to ask quite a lot of the reader, but if you just go with it, as it appears you did, you'll get something out of it. A lot of my novel is written much like this, which is why your comment is so encouraging. That's made my day, and trust me, it needed making.
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)
Hello Niamh. A record FIVE people unsubscribed for this piece. This grapefruit-machine was something you imagined. Or was it the strangest rehab in the world? Did you know grapefruit juice is a potentiator for benzos? There's certain compounds in grapefruit juice, primarily furanocoumarins, which inhibit the activity of a liver enzyme known as CYP3A4- which interferes with the metabolising of the benzo, causing it to last longer and be stronger. Legend has it a grapefruit farmer found out when he was prescribed diazepam, like 2ml a day and couldn't stand up because he'd have a pint of grapefruit juice for breakfast, How do people get like this? Usually - in my experience - neglectful, abusive, and loveless childhoods get the ball rolling, but since not everyone who lived through such things turn out like 'this', there are other factors on the way. That's the story though, Niamh, our protagonist here is the 'how' of people getting like this. Best wishes.
Thanks for your nice long reply Chris . Dr Chris!. Yes love is the answer. And citrus. Was a wonderful rehab . Some chap on Hampstead Road was making it easy for any Tom Dick and Harry to get in, bless him. Good wishes from UK
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!!
Cheers Ludwig. Interestingly, the manuscript I'm working on (you may have heard the rumours) changes style, like it's rolling down a history of literary tropes and ideas, picking up a bit of some here, losing a bit of others there, and continuing rolling along changing all the way. But not for the sake of it - but because it reflects the content - it tells its own story alongside the words, as all writing does, but to play with it intentionally, dare I say to subvert it, is definitely one of the most concerning aspects of my publication. Some people are going to be very disappointed. As usual. But others will get it, and if they do, they really will get it. How do you tell a story that's beyond words? They all are really. Words are a trap, but they're all we have, so we have to rattle the cage a bit here and there. It's late.
That you enjoyed unravelling the dialogue suggests you may quite like the manuscript, depending on how much unravelling you're up for.
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.
Cheers, Rob. Thankfully, or luckily, my long-form has some quite beautiful moments of decent humans connecting, so it's not just endless rankness. Thank you for taking the time to give another one a read and for leaving a comment. Much appreciated.
Can you add a few more commas in the next one?
Put your own in?
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!
Cheers Pete, I'll take a second reading all day long. Much appreciated. And yes, Nick's leg has made it's way into a few stories. I doubt I'll ever see him again; I'd put money on him no longer being with us, the truth be told. But it would be interesting if he was, to let him hear and read them. Unless, of course, they lopped it off and then I doubt he'd appreciate it..