Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The Finger In The Prince Albert Tin

The tenth year of my life was a dark and tortuous year for my tender, still fledgling soul. Leading up to that year, at the age of nine I had to confront my abusive father and declare that I would no longer be visiting him and taking the beatings he dished out. Then I turned ten.

Ten found my family moving to a new house, in a new town. A town where there was seemingly a church on every corner and all the kids seemed dirty and strange. We moved the summer before my fifth grade year and it was a long, painful, hot summer. Somewhere in that time my mother pulled away from the family, from herself and landed squarely in a mental hospital having tried to off herself in the middle of one desperate night. Being the oldest, I felt I had the weight of my heavy, upside down world sitting on my shoulders.

I turned inside myself and curled up in a ball. I spent hours reading. Being precocious in nature, I read books much too mature for my years. One book in particular will forever be seared into my soft ten year old insides. As the summer grew cool, I picked up The Other by Thomas Tryon. With book in hand, I spent days reading and absorbing the horror, the terror. I was too young to fully understand what I was reading but, I was terrified. I was utterly horrified and scared out of my little mind.

Suddenly? The world was a big, bad, mean place and I now understood that. The mind is a strange thing that can fail you at anytime, releasing the darkness from within. Darkness that you can produce but not even fully understand.

Reading today's blog gave me that same terrible chill that The Other did so many years ago when I was fragile and frightened. The blogger's 'About Me' only offers up this:

Sack Posset: I am a green glass bottle full of filth and bees.


And indeed she is. There is no sense in even going on about the template of this blog. Simply put, I doubt she cares.

Without much to go on, I started with reading a few of the current posts and was oddly intrigued. Wanting to know just exactly what, I was reading I went back to the beginning and it was there that I started the chilling voyage of Sack Posset.

Yesterday I saw the cat with the human face again. It watched me as I passed and it was still staring when I looked back over my shoulder. It insinuated itself into my dreams, where it tried to make me touch it in an inappropriate way and then disappeared under the bed.

It seems that the author is truly that, an author. An author who is deep in the mind of a serial killer, perhaps too deep. Skillfully crafted, the words flow into each other painting a picture of a mind so black and dirty, you feel intimately violated by the stark, fear inducing nothingness of her soul.

However, just like The Other did for me all those years ago, while I was petrified, I also felt wrapped in a web of comfort. I could see the spider closing in to sink it's teeth into my fly flesh, but I was paralyzed and couldn't do anything about it. And, you know what? I just didn't want to.

Step into this world and sometimes you will wonder if the "we's" are actually other people or just the characters inside her head. You'll see glimpses and flashes of the real person that is there, but then you will be tugged right back down into the murk. Snarling, angry words are cleverly twisted around the mundane like watching Britain's Got Talent .

It seemed to me that at some point the author put aside the writings of the killer she has created, and at that point the tone changed ever so slightly. It became lighter and different, but still that blackness is there.

You find yourself imagining that there might just be someone chained to the water heater in the basement, crying for help, as this person clicks away on their computer in a filthy bedroom all day.








Just stay the fuck away from me.

Please.

54 comments:

  1. How much do I love this blog. The words just blow me away.

    "Everybody has somebody shackled to a radiator inside them."

    "Feral children with faces like chicken nuggets and dirty, dirty mouths."

    I read the entire blog this morning and was overwhelmed with how good and wicked and rich and delicious the writing is. It's a nightmare carnival with feral children and the monsters are real. Her writing reminds me a lot of Neil Gaiman or Graham Joyce, like funhouse magic realism where the jesters eat your soul and gods walk among us and fairies piss in your tea and the cotton candy is spun by spiders.

    Absolutely, positively loved it.

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  2. Vivian VonDoom7/15/2009 10:45 AM

    I loved it. It just felt like I was inside a fragile, twisted mind.

    It was hard to know if it was fact or fiction.

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  3. You know I felt it was more fantasy than reality, but it's fascinating the different things people take away from this blog.

    Either way, we know this:

    "and once the Great Jam Sandwich Machine rolled in, operated by men riding ostriches, and with much clanking and juddering and eruptions of glitter it produced a perfect sandwich for every last child."

    is fun.

    And this:

    "As a girl I was godhungry, I collected them like stamps. Many-armed and jackal-headed, blue-hued and cloven-hoofed, playing the pipes, the harp, the fool, fickle, flawed and fictional. Boy-gods naked, thumb-sucking, silent; bare-breasted girl-gods of sex and the sewers."

    is gorgeous.

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  4. Ms VonDoom,

    My delight at your review is tempered by the sadness of your childhood. I’m really sorry to hear that you had to go through all of that shit, but by the sounds of it you’ve become a strong and fearless person despite it all.

    Your site has given me many happy hours of reading and has dampened my knickers in more ways than one, so I am pleased to be able to give you some enjoyment (if that’s the right word!) in return.

    Your review was so beautifully written that I hope you don’t mean for me to stay away. We should play....

    Calamity,

    The Tooth Fairy by Graham Joyce is one of my favourite books. I’m really flattered by the comparison! I love your description of the terrible carnival – it’s like what I see when I close my eyes.

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  5. Oh my, this is some beautiful stuff. I know stuff is the wrong word but I'm at a loss this morning.

    Can I say it reminds me of confessional poetry a bit? Not the shitty kind. The good kind. Like Sylvia or Anne.

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  6. Vivian VonDoom7/15/2009 11:23 AM

    Please do play. Don't stay away. We need some fresh genius around these parts.

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  7. Sack, I was thinking of The Tooth Fairy in particular! Fantastic book, and fantastic blog.

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  8. I'd love to play. I'll bring a picnic. Jam sandwiches all round.

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  10. Oops, butterfingers.

    Calamity - that book sticks to your skin. I can still smell it on me.

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  11. Yes, exactly. The underneath of everyday things, slightly skewed then downright mad.

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  12. I still wanted the tooth fairy to visit me, though.

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  13. This blog is mesmerizing and haunting.

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  14. Thank you, Gwen and Betsey. Please feel free to come and dabble your fingers in my puddingbowl.

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  15. Something wicked this way comes.

    Loved it.

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  16. You know, I've read this before. Many times, actually.

    I was afraid to comment. And then each post left me all charged, and I would read the same one over and over again, and then I would give up.

    She writes beautifully, but sometimes, for me? It's almost too much. I need breaks between my awesome.

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  17. Rass, do you know how you found her site? I mean what lead you there?

    I read the whole thing in one fell swoop but could probably go back and read it again and again, over and over, and find more I loved.

    I might be gushing a little.

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  18. Ah Rassles, I feel just the same way about you. I've been admiring you from afar for a while now. I commented once but then I got the fear.

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  19. Reading this blog is like watching something terrifyingly beautiful and praying to God that it never notices you exist. Inexorably drawn to that which will ultimately be your demise. Or something like that. Brilliant.

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  20. I think that's it Sack, you commented on my blog. Did I comment on yours? I should scour the archives.

    No, no. That's just pathetic.

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  21. Seriously, is anyone else slightly, like, melodically intimidated by Sack?

    How do you know so many words? You should write poems, because I would read them, and I hate poetry.

    But even though your shit's in paragraphs, it's like poetry. I don't know how to deal with it. I think it's the absence of snark, and the mastery of satire, and it makes me uncomfortable in a good way.

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  22. Vivian VonDoom7/15/2009 12:16 PM

    For the record, it completely fried my mind to review this blog.

    I'm the sort of person that uses the English language recklessly and says words because they make me laugh.

    Stupid, brainless words.

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  23. You did Rassles, but it was on a post I removed to tinker with.

    Do you know something? Monster Squad was on the telly last week and I watched it because of Ask. It was super duper.

    Lil - can I put that on my C.V.? I think it will go down well with the job agency.

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  24. Rass, it's most definitely poetic, for sure. And intimidated? Hell yeah! Hence the gushing and comparing her to my favorite writers.

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  25. To use my local idiom, I'm proper chuffed.

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  26. Brrr. This blog reminds me of "salad fingers". Both of 'em kick ass.

    I need a dictionary for this one though.

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  27. Vivian - I like funny words too. I can keep myself amused for hours with 'titmouse'.

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  28. It's this series of really creepy animations/flash cartoons.

    Here. It's a must watch, those Brits are geniuses.

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  29. You've read The Other?

    I wasn't sure about you. Now I'm sure.

    !!!

    !!!

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  30. "Lil - can I put that on my C.V.? I think it will go down well with the job agency."

    Sure, Sack. Go for it. Is it the Ed Gein Employment Agency? Oh the possibilities for horrible punny commentary - but I shall refrain. Everything I'm thinking of is WAY too obvious. :-)

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  31. This blog is so good that it's as if someone finally came along and convincingly told me my desire for sweet, sweet pumpkin muffins and blood spattered crow bars no longer need bifurcate my brain.
    What a fucking relief.

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  32. This is awesome.

    I'm so glad to have found something truly different. Because even among the amazing blogs out there, sometimes there is little variety, except the variety of nuances of voices, but it's the same life telling, where this looks more like story telling. Can't wait to dig in. Sweet review.

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  33. Viv, once again you rocked my face off. Though I have never met you I can say you are just a beautiful person. I bow to your awesomeness.

    Sack, I love you. I just do. Which is odd as I only love myself and usually to anime porn. Though I, at times, had no idea what you were saying I got lost in the words you chose to say them with. You are Gods most perfect thesaurus and I thank you.

    As to this line in an earlier comment Please "feel free to come and dabble your fingers in my puddingbowl".

    Thats what she said! Good day.

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  34. Vivian VonDoom7/15/2009 2:50 PM

    Thanks Chris.

    I like to think I'm pretty awesome, but then I would. I made myself this way. So if you call it awesome then I will too.

    Sorry about that rocking your face off thing. Does it hurt?

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  35. The White Hotel by D.M. Thomas kept coming to mind. But its been years since I read it...not sure if that's an accurate comparison or not. Love, love the blog. Now I think I'll have to go buy some Maderia and cream and make my own posset.

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  36. Hereinfranklin - The White Hotel, what a book! Have you read Birthstone? It's just as discomfiting.

    Mongolian Girl - how about pumpkin and anchovy?

    Chris - you're such a scamp.

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  37. You guys want to know who else I like, but I'm afraid to comment?


    This one.

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  38. Rassles...you little scamp you...you commented on my very own blog that you weren't afraid of anything. Ha! You go leave a comment at Bateau RIGHT NOW!!!

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  39. I am a fucking liar and everything.

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  40. Sack: Only if I get to club the anchovies to death with tiny crow bars first.

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  41. I'm so pissed Rassles isn't afraid of me. Dammit!

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  42. I'm in the middle of bidding on something on Ebay so I'm making this fast.

    Why isn't Rassles afraid of me?

    Never mind.

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  43. This is a great review, and the blog itself almost defies description...in a good way.

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  44. Vivian VonDoom7/15/2009 4:42 PM

    This review opened a hole up inside of me today.

    I've been exhausted since I started it.

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  45. "opened a hole up inside of me today.

    I've been exhausted since I started it."

    Too easy.

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  46. Vivian VonDoom7/15/2009 4:48 PM

    Yes you are. Way too easy.

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  47. Well, you guys hit me up first.

    You know, in real life I'm not afraid to talk to anyone, but via blog? It's like I'm imposing.

    And I don't want people to feel obligated to read my blog, because I fucking hate it when I feel obligated to read someone else's blog.

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  48. Oh please, I just deleted, like, five blogs out of my reader. You know there's something wrong when there are 12 unread posts in there and they only post twice a month.
    Relief.

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  49. I have a bunch of blogs in my reader that I hang onto in case of boredom...like right now. But then some gems sometimes get lost in there cause I'm not used to reading them.

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  50. Sack, please come live under my bed, you beautiful monster. MMmmmm.

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  51. Rass...thanks for the Banana Boat link...she is fab. What is it about the Brits?

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  52. I truly believe that we have reached the point where technology has become one with our society, and I am fairly confident when I say that we have passed the point of no return in our relationship with technology.


    I don't mean this in a bad way, of course! Societal concerns aside... I just hope that as the price of memory drops, the possibility of copying our memories onto a digital medium becomes a true reality. It's a fantasy that I dream about all the time.


    (Posted on Nintendo DS running [url=http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474978023679]R4[/url] DS QDos)

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Grow a pair.