The end of an era – the end of Mr Cynical? – 3rd September 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Good news punk rockers, good news. A long-standing member of the scene in Southampton, is, at last, fucking off to Australia.

Unfortunately for me, I’ve known this person for many years + I’ve seen him change + for the worse in my opinion.

I’ll not be sorry to see him go that’s for sure! Now I can start coming to gigs again, knowing I won’t have to put up with his ugly smiling face + all his happy cheery positive talk. God, that guy was always looking on the bright side – I couldn’t fuckin’ stand it – it was insulting to my intelligence.

I’ve been keeping well clear of him for ages now, him + his obnoxious girlfriend. I blame her for his happiness.

Let’s face it kiddies, punk rock is not about being happy, it’s about isolation, pain + fucking shit up. About being miserable + paranoid + frustrated. These things are the fuel of the punk rock fire.

I ask you, how can anyone be happy + punk rock? You can’t + don’t argue with me ‘cos 1 should know, I’ve been like this for years.

Well, things can get back to normal now + it’s great that. I can come to gigs again. That makes me happy… erm… I guess?

Shaun’s Show

Mr Cynical happy? Who’d’ve thought? Looks like we won’t be seeing him again + you also won’t be seeing me again, ‘though you can still enjoy my future writings here + in ‘Suspect Device’. In case you didn’t know, I’m the one off to Australia. For those who don’t know who I am, I’m the guy in loud shirts, who’s been selling records in the corner at the Joiners. I’ve given THIRST! plenty of abuse when they’ve played + I’ve been too drunk to be coherent sometimes (but that describes any number of people!). I’ve been involved in the scene in one way or another for 9 years + the effort I’ve put in has reaped its rewards with great memories + new friends (still making new friends at the last gig). I’d like to thank all those people who’ve been there for me in times of need + whose floors I’ve slept on + whose memories I’ve rifled over the years. People who’ve fed me, bought me beers, given me joints, or taken me to gigs. They’ll all say they’ve seen me change over the years + welcomed + accepted that change. I know most people prefer me the way I am now, as opposed to 3 years ago. I was a cynical, obnoxious, loud-mouthed stubborn opinionated git. All those people who stood by me deserve much credit for remaining friends. I never knew I had so many. They know (as I now do) that the reward is in the giving + not in the taking. People who come to Southampton will find out for themselves just how good the scene is + I wish the best to all those involved – past, present + future. Spread the word cos the word is good. Remember ‘We Are The Magic People’.

Besides all that malarkey, there’s a couple of things that need addressing re: the STE Bulletin. First of all, is Queer Rob’s column regarding porn. Time has been against me in talking directly to Rob, so I’ll put it down here. Rob, your views on porn are ignorant + misguided. When we did speak, you asked me what knowledge I’ve had in regards to porn + unfortunately, the conversation got interrupted.

Well, a few years ago, I helped put together a fanzine that dealt with issues of sex + sexuality, one of the issues being porn. I studied the subject from all angles, so I do have some idea of what goes on and what others think of it. First of all, porn is made for men, by men. That might be a huge generalisation but I can’t think of an example of a film that was made for women.

Men make money out of it, lots of money + all over the world. Sex sells, I’m sure we all know that. It is a sexist business. Just like being a chef, you imagine all the people who cook to be women but all the top-paid chefs are men. So it is the women get to be on screen for a meagre wage, while the men get to rake in the profit.

Secondly, you say that these films are not degrading to women, because what they do is out of choice. The point here is about the way women are always portrayed in submissive roles in porn films – that is blatant sexism. I’ll give you some examples of films I have to hand. 1st: film ‘Virgin Ass’. Storyline/introduction/clothes off (2 minutes), oral sex carried out by her (2 mins), she mounts him, (2 mins), various positions that quickly reverse the dominating role ie he takes control (6 mins), anal sex (any guesses who carries that out on whom! – 2 mins), cum shot: (most cum shots revolve around her giving oral sex, again because it makes for a better film because the cum is visual. It is also a very dominating action.

If you like the sound of that, you can see just how lovely this is at home by inserting a carrot all the way into your anus, withdraw it + take a bite. You’ll notice the time will invariably be between 10 + 15 minutes, that is known as the ultimate wank time.

2nd film ‘Lesbian Trio’. 3 naked women with various sex toys, performing mutual masturbation + oral sex in various positions. This type of film is aimed directly at the male market. It is a common male fantasy to sleep with more than 1 woman, who perform lesbian acts together too. Male homosexual movies are also aimed at the male market.

Final film ‘Love Triangle’. Same as the first film, except her performing oral sex at the same time as vaginal sex, ending up with both vaginal + anal sex at the same time, ending with cum shot over face + in mouth.

Can you see the domination messages that that film is sending out to sad four-eyed five-knuckle shufflers everywhere? If people get off on it, then that’s fine but people who don’t understand that porn films are degrading to women are ignorant. That’s no crime, just a sad fact of life. Porn films make me realise that I’ve got much better things to do with my time.

Now I’ve heard it recently that people thought Rob Callen’s last column was too long + going over old ground. Well, I will say it here that Rob’s columns are by far the most interesting to read + so what if it means having to sacrifice the regular picture, maybe Rich could do away with his band listing, or start using some of the cover?

Rob is the most open, honest, selfless person amongst all the people I know in Southampton + it really fucks me off that people are always quick to knock him or ignore him. All he wants is for you to be open + honest with him, which is the very fuckin’ message he’s been saying over + over in his columns. If he’s repeating himself, maybe it’s because he’s not yet found those qualities in his friends being offered up. Think about it guys!

I hope to have a book out in early ’95, which is based on my life in 1994, which shows the major changes I have gone through in this exciting year. All your fave characters will be there + I hope when read it will encourage people to go out + grab life by the handlebars + seek out their destinies, be they in suburban Eastleigh, grimy London or sunny Sydney.

OPPORTUNITY OF THE MASSES WITH ROB

First off, I must apologise for everything that I’ll be going to say in this column because I just know it won’t make sense to anyone! Let me try to explain why:

Imagine yourself looking into the friendly eyes of some people that you’ve come to know + you see a myriad of shifting thoughts reflected in their eyes. Maybe your own thoughts are in there somewhere, because on some occasions you’ve seen what they’ve seen + have experienced the same things + had the same thoughts that they’ve had + through this slow process of getting to know them, you start to find out everything you’ve taken for granted + all the things you didn’t say because you thought it was inappropriate + all the ideas you had but didn’t have the courage to put them into practice, all came suddenly together + are brought into a clearer perspective, by talking to people who’ve showed a lot of respect + who talk honestly about their experiences + expectations.

I’m thinking about 2 people in particular, who won’t be with me/you for too much longer, for they are going home/emigrating to Australia + I think this is one reason why sometimes I tend to look at things with a sense of urgency, because it seems there are things which I do which I’m only gonna get one chance at – like playing in a band, or writing, or just talking to people, to see what’s on their mind.

Let’s talk about friends who emigrate first (!). Opportunities like this only come up once or twice, if at all, in a lifetime + obviously takes courage + a lot of thought + soul-searching to go through with.

However, even though I’ll really miss them both, for Shaun’s cool perspective on life + Bronwyn’s kind thoughtfulness, let me just say that through them (+ a few other good people I know, which included Steve), my perspective on lots of simple basic things keeps on changing. There’s not normally a day that goes past when I haven’t thought about it.

I’m not saying I’ve changed into a better person, or found “happy happy, joy joy”, cos basically I’m still the same old geezer but: what I might: have now is a stupid optimism, to look at everything as an opportunity + to not worry about problems but to laugh at them + to laugh at myself for laughing at them!

Maybe I’m getting off the point. The point is that: Shaun + Bronwyn have seen an opportunity (even if it’s rather an obvious one) + are grasping it with both hands. This is just a point that comes back to me, over + over again in that old NEWTOWN NEUROTICS song ‘Wake Up’, which goes: “Make the most of your life every day + every opportunity that comes your way”. To me these words are more than lyrics in a punk rock song, they summarise what Shaun + Bronwyn are doing + show me what you, I or anyone can achieve by just looking around the next corner, by opening up your horizons + by just making the time + effort to show people our good side occasionally.

So with keeping opportunity. in mind, let’s reconsider what I wrote in the first sentence. Maybe I shouldn’t have apologised – maybe I should have seen this as an opportunity not to put myself down but to say a big thank you to everyone who’s taken the time to look into my eyes + who has seen their own thoughts in there somewhere.

For although you might be 1,000 miles away in a new city, or new country + a new life there will be times when I’ll think of you + you’ll no doubt think about the people you knew here too, which will stir us to keep in contact – but not only with each other but with many more people that will come our way. It’ll be hard but the hardest things are sometimes worth taking chances on + fighting for. So let’s not, take this as the end but as a start of new experiences, of new hopes + most importantly of all, of new friends.

You didn’t need me to say this but I’ve said it anyway because I had the opportunity to do so. I’m not saying goodbye, just good luck!

Keep holding on to your goals + don’t let anyone get you down, for you can rest assured that in our own way, we’ll be doing the same, for we won’t be growing apart, we’ll be growing together with what is in our eyes + in our hearts.

from STE Bulletin 28, September 1994

Now I can’t show you all the things I’ve seen and I can’t make you feel anything, certainly not what they meant to me – 2nd September 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

It’s an exciting life. When Broni gets home I have a delicious meal prepared for her and sit yummying as we talk about our day.

Broni has been very busy at work and soon falls down dog tired but after some rumination we take a gentle stroll into the park as the sun slowly descends somewhere behind some cloud or other. We sit and watch the ducks and swans and talk about belief and good things. We realise how lucky we are, to have each other, to have this adventure and to have the future.

When I get back I have a long chat with Rob on the phone, which involves more shit flying in the Fatty department, which will bore me to death to repeat here and particularly as I am making great pains to forget all about that sad part of my life and to look towards brighter things. It is sad for me to carry a thorn in my side but now I feel able to let it go (haven’t I said this before?) Now feels different though and my future is absolutely soaring away from everything I know here, all the things I like but all the things I dislike too.

Later Broni and Kerry are talking and I join them in the bedroom, Kerry is talking like a maniac, high on life, full of herself because she finally feels comfortable with who she is and recognises her place in the world and realises her worth. She says it’s taken ten years but if you could see her bright chirpy cherub face you can see ambition and content. It was so good to hear her talking positively about life especially after my talk with Rob which dealt more with clearing out negative emotion.

So the cloud over me soon disappeared and I felt a wave of enthusiasm for life come over me and a little bit of loss for not having Steve around to talk to. Broni has me sussed pretty well though and reflects all my good points which make me feel much better and soon we are wrestling and playing in our makeshift bed on the floor.

Before we know it we are awake again, missed our dreams and she is off to work as I get up and cycle around the harbour taking video memories every now and then, through the park to the quay and back along the circuit, catching glimpses of beauty and depths through the cameras eye and hell, I feel so good inside myself today.

It is so easy to forget just how lucky you are to be alive and mornings like these bring it home that no matter what goes wrong, will still be okay.

Now is what’s happening, now is real, live for the now. I will see the sunset over a beautiful peaceful world.

28th Jul 2024 – A video shot of Horton Tower as we were passing by sometime.

Tell Mr Bossman I said goodbye – 1st September 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Apocalypse now. ‘This is the end’. Another month already and it’s to be my last on these shores don’t you know. Eighteen months of planning and organising, fretting and worrying are coming to a climax. Easy. As time rarely stands still I have more to tell in the brief time since I last wrote.

Things are tending to go on around me at the moment, like I don’t have any real control over them. Maybe decision-making is just getting easier and more fluid. I don’t feel out of control. I’m still kind of hung over from the weekend even four days later (this weekend should be pretty busy too).

So, David and Louise came down from London to see us and as they arrive the sun came out. Blessed by the hand of God no doubt they’d say and I don’t mean that to sound cynical on my part, just that that is the kind of thing they might say. Although not pushy about religion in anyway it is a major part of their lives so it’s often talked about. They are very happy together and in fact remind me of me and Broni in many ways (some uncanny idiosyncrasies in the Smith family for sure).

So we took them up to Compton Acres Gardens which we marvelled at the beauty of flowers, trees and views, then round the harbour to the beach which are all cool places and David, and particularly Louise, see real magic in their enthusiastic take on life. Everything is delightful and brilliant in their eyes and I have much respect for their bright outlook.

Later we went to a Thai restaurant to try it out and the food was gorgeous, totally mouthwatering but (big but) the servings were minuscule, not enough to keep any of us happily fed, therefore all overpriced too, so we came back and gorged on passionfruit cheesecake Broni had made the night before. I was starting to wane and became very self-conscious too for some reason, I wasn’t very sure of myself and whether I was appreciated by everyone, kind of weird and not sure if it was me picking up vibes or misreading body language.

I fell asleep to the film everyone was watching and soon went up to bed to wait for my lovely gentle lover to join me. Oh, how she feels so completely fresh to my skin, so smooth and virginal, angelic in my arms, to fall asleep like spoons for the last time in this safe bed.

And morning come, she’s up and away, tidying frenzy while I’m still travelling in the slow lane, so I help here and there but helping more by keeping out of the way. David and Louise drop in to say goodbye till we go up to see them again later in the month, just before we leave, in fact.

And then we’re on the road up to Heathrow to pick Kerry up. We skilfully avoid all roadworks and get there in good time giving us chance to check out all the books and magazines on the racks at the airport. Soon we are watching people coming through the arrivals doors and Broni is overcome with emotion as we watch children reunited with their mothers, others with their lovers, flowers in hand – so precious those moments. And Kezza strolls on through, face beaming when she spots us and then excitedly telling us about her flight and her month wandering around Tokyo, visiting Mount Fuji and Hiroshima. And about how she fell in love with her girlfriend over there and you could tell from her face it was something deep. And it got me thinking that girl-girl love is a more gentle beautiful thing than girl-boy love. I guess because that awful male ego thing isn’t there. I feel really down on men at the moment though I don’t have any desire to be female I respect the feminine side of me much more (at least when I’m not thinking with my dick).

We get home, eat, drink some beer, fall asleep. A-ha, while at the airport I bought another Kerouac book (Visions of Cody) for the trip to Greece. And I fell in love with his writing again and I’d only read Ginsberg’s introduction!

“I accept lostness forever. Everything belongs to me because I am poor… And I dig you as we together dig the lostness and the fact that, of course, nothing’s ever to be gained but death.”

-Jack Kerouac

Oh, I just love it. And it scares me to start reading it, even though it’s some 450 pages long, I know when I start I will have to finish it but there are more books to be read yet.

Me and Broni made a bed on the living room floor, which is where we will be living till we leave (with a brief hiatus to Greece of course). And I love waking up with her as I’ve probably told you a million times before, such a grumpy cutie, bottom lip out at the prospect of leaving this nice warm cocoon of safety. She brings me coffee and laughs at me for being tucked up still, recalling how when I had to go to work I would be instantly awake, up and out, no messing around.

And later on today I kind of realise that I’m not going back to work, no more that scuzzy office for me, no more stomach ulcers, no more tension. I’ve avoided talking about work here because it’s dull, isn’t it? Many of us are in jobs we don’t really like; my job was just a means to an end. I worked hard, earned my money, and fucked off and left it all behind. And after eight years in that place, it sure was time for a break.

Now, in Sydney, land of opportunity, places of dreams (hey, think positive) I’m going to pursue some job that I’ll enjoy, something music-based, even if it’s just working in a crummy record shop it would be more up my street, ok!

Losing It

10,000 surfers camping in a field
a frenzy of food, a drinking orgy
closely watching the antics of their heroes
up on a stage built of mud and mortar

20,000 liggers with beads in their hair
marching through the warrens of tents
tripping on guy ropes and acid
into the night and day and night of dreams

30,000 sheep sleeping in the sun
as the rain pours around their feet
wrapped in the papers, written by scum
set light the fire, burn it bright

40,000 followers, follow their leaders
who follow instructions on how to lead
and give the fucking kids what they want
and keep them all happy and twisted

50,000 gazers watch on as a leader falls
for baring his soul, losing his sight
hating what he has become because
he has become everything he hates

60,000 geezers imitate each other
cos everyone is having a good time
a good time is deserved in the shit and the rain
and hell, there’s nothing more they can do

70,000 visitors pay on the door
no wonder I’m tired and cynical
a real money spinner, a raging success
as the veil of money tightens the throats

of 80,000 kids, hopelessly lost
in need of something to grab hold of
clasping at shaped candles and glow-in-the-darks
souls for sale in the sea of life.

It’s a new generation of electric white boy blues – 30th August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

I’m shattered, we’ve been at Reading Music Festival for the last four days. Tenting down in the dust and dirt, eating half cooked veggie burgers in a sea of tin cans and plastic food containers as a thousand people walk by you in the blink of an eye, on their way to getting pissed at eight in the morning or coming down off the previous night’s high.

Crusty scroungers push a pram full of puppies in search of free amber nectar or tar of any sort. A hundred young girls queued for the seven or eight toilets, from six in the morning, daring each other to go in the one second from the end. People slept where they fell and some fell in the bushes where people pissed. Some never slept and others slept through while their favourite band was playing.

In the arena was a comedy tent, the Melody Maker tent and the main stage and you’d be lucky if you could get anywhere near any of them. Well, we did get to see Sebadoh’s guitar breaking set which was about the most exciting thing all weekend. In fact time did seem to drag at certain points but we were kind of happy that we had nothing to do except drink and relax, and occasionally running across to the record fair to the nice clean toilets.

First thing to do when camping with 50,000 other people must find a decent toilet which other people don’t know about. Most people had to pay a pound to go in the record fair but we just slipped in each time claiming to work there. Of course, we had plenty of friends in there, Simon, Rich, Baz, Gaz, Mark, John and his wife; we even got roped in to do Simon’s stall for part of Saturday morning.

Anyway, on the campsite we came up with Rob, Rich, PJ and Warren, who none of us knew and didn’t hang around that much. On Sunday, joined by Chrissy, Sharon, Selena, John, Tina and Rob who out drank us as we slept through their insane partying; I wish we could’ve stayed awake on that last night but we’d just had enough by then.

We eventually left on Monday morning after a very nice man helped us get the car started. A beautiful bath and an hours sleep saw us into the evening but we exhausted of all energies and just kind of lazed on into bed, Broni reading me love poems as I drifted off once again into unconsciousness.

And then today is still slow as we clean up the house in preparation for David and Louise coming down soon and then Kerry’s return tomorrow. Things are starting to seem much bigger now as we have only four weeks to go before I leave – it’s scary. Yeah, it’s scary, kind of huge.

I was sat in PJ’s campervan drunk and stoned and it hit. These guys here, I’m going to miss them. Not so easy to just ring up and gossip, and I’ll miss out on the tiny stories, the little things that help you understand what people are like, the details, you know the bits between the lines. When you communicate over a great distance you feel like you just want to mention the really important things, big things, but I’ll be wishing to hear the other things too.

Some cats are fat cats, what we gonna do? – 29th August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Short Story

The fat evil cat ate the little timid mouse, except for the tail, said “yum yum.” The cat was too fat and on proceeding to walk, fell over – dead. Mrs Smith-Jones (interesting name) buried her poor pussy in a quiet patch under the apple tree. But unfortunately she got her foot stuck in the hole she had dug. There she grows now. Blossoming in beauty. The children climb her branches to collect the best apples in the orchard. But Farmer Giles (interesting name) often shoots them out of the trees for target practice. The moral of this story is don’t eat mice.

Reading Festival – 28th August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

8th January 2024 – Rich, I remember, was talking up Archers of Loaf but I didn’t know who they were at the time. He was also into Scrawl so he was already in the tent hanging out in the afternoon. I dug The Jesus Lizard on the main stage and correctly guessed that it would be less than a minute before David Yow had jumped into the audience where he may have remained for the whole set. Did I stay for Helmet? I should have. Watching bands on the main stage of a festival wasn’t fun for me anymore though. I was already preferring the more intimate surroundings of small/no stages in unusual places.

I didn’t bother with Rollins Band in the evening and enjoyed a final day of being with friends again.

Reading Festival – 26th August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

8th January 2024 – I don’t think I made it to the main stage on this day though probably glimpsed it in passing. I do wish I’d been into Cypress Hill back then though as that would have been great fun. I do remember seeing Sebadoh though and Lou getting emotional and cranky, smashing his guitar. Courtney Love was looking on from the side and I think comforted him and I thought to myself, ‘Fucking hell, please stay away from Lou!’

What I mainly remember from this event was sleeping in the Mini van, with my legs sticking out the open doors as it was so small. I think I had stuffed a mattress in there. I also brought an extra car battery which I hooked up to the car stereo and extended the speakers onto the car roof so that everyone could enjoy Die Kreuzen at full blast whilst I drunkenly gyrated on the bonnet.

After the musical acts finished at the festival and people returned to their tents I blasted Church of the SubGenius tapes for the benefit of those passing by tripping out of their minds. This felt a little like my last hooray, hanging out and drinking and dancing with the Southampton crew.

On Steve – 25th August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

The pub is vibrant, people are smiling and dancing. It’s New Year’s Eve 1992. I don’t recall the circumstances that took us there, where the place is or what happened there. Our circle of friends were gathering to welcome in the new year in style. Myself, Fatty and Paul Simmons, we were the outsiders travelling up from Dorset to join the Hampshire crew of Rich, Rob, Steve, Chrissie, John, Selina, Dave and Holty. Our connection was music, whether performing, promoting, or watching.

Tonight, however was a celebration of friendship. While everyone was rolling around drunkenly, at about 11 o’clock Steve and I agreed it was time to leave. We wanted to get away from the gaggle, have a quiet space in which to exchange ideas. We just said to each other let’s go back to the house and talk. We both knew what we meant. It was a poetic moment, we both wanted to thrash out ideas and ideals and open each other up in a way that I’ve never found with anyone else, lay ourselves bare, vulnerable, emotions visible.

So we walked back through the empty dark streets, each house and home having their own little private celebrations for the new year. We got to Holty’s house where everyone would be coming back to after the pub shut, we walked in to the living room, I sat on the sofa lounging back slightly drunk. Steve sat crossed legged on the floor, a fine upright muscular figure, I can see his silhouette now. He took out some hash and rolled up a fine joint of skunk weed as we set off on our journey into each others souls.

While not invasive or offensive, we voyeur each others thoughts. We find truth and beauty in what each of us has to say and our relationship develops into something special. He tells me how he used to look up to me when he saw me years ago at gigs and I say I can’t believe it, not understanding that I might affect people in that way. I don’t even remember him from then and even when we toured Europe together with our respective bands I didn’t get much chance to make friends, though I was probably too wrapped up in myself to have noticed anyone else.

I don’t recall the reasons that he looked up to me and they are not so important now anyway. But right then, right when he told me, the roles reversed and I started to look up to him. I loved his bright enthusiasm, the relentless energy, on later occasions at his house we’d talk everyone, to sleep, then sit up til 4am when I would protest that I needed rest but he said no, we must carry on talking. Sleep is the enemy, a favourite saying from Kerouac.

At midnight, we welcomed in the new year, I’d rifled Holty’s varied collection of CDs and played Madonna, Half Man Half Biscuit and Mud, me trying to convince Steve they were ahead of their time and probably one of the very first punk bands, it all seemed to make perfect sense at the time – hey, I was a little drunk and stoned!

A while later the rest of the circus came back from the pub in very high spirits, a party erupted around us and we gladly joined in. Paul was the first to puke (I’m not sure if anyone else did, and Rob eventually fell asleep under the chair of the three peice suite before everyone dumped him in the cupboard under the stairs (or did he go there of his own accord, I forget now?)), his socks left to turn to ice in the freezer (or were they Rich’s?).

One clear memory is Steve reprimanding me for being out of order when I must of said something insulting about someone, I was a very sarcastic son of a bitch back then and thanks to him I changed my ways slowly over the next year or so. I began to respect him even more.

His few letters to me reflected our conversations and I once wrote a six page letter of thoughts and ideas at his request, it was regarding an article he sent me from a newspaper. He was amazed at the huge amount of points I’d raised that he said he would never have thought of, from then we would make demands of each other, more and more, we had to know each other’s ideas and then bounce them around. We were grasping at life, getting a hold on it, looking for meaning, looking for happiness. Steve found it too a lot of the time and slowly I did as well, trying to emulate his outlook and zest for adventure. He loved and married Chrissie, took on the role of father to Chrissy’s daughter Amanda, and then to their daughter Rebecca. He was a real role model for me, changing over the years from a wild youth always in trouble to the most gentle, caring man who loved life to the full. And you know, that sounds just like me.

Steve is giving us a quick conducted tour of the bedroom. He’s keen to show off his pride and joy, daughter Rebecca, sleeping softly wrapped in blankets in the cot. Her 3 month old tiny lungs take short shallow restful breaths.

While Steve is pointing the camera at tiny Rebecca’s face, his hand comes into view and he points his 24 year old finger at her and then sticks his 24 year old thumb up. Proud father, lucky child.

The tour is a glimpse into a private life, not really a show for friends but the capture of a moment trapped in sound and vision for that old age memory loss time, a reminder of beautiful things that affect life profoundly.

Continuing on our tour, lots of short dialogues (excerpt ends)

See, nobody loves me, not like I do – 24th August 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

3 shorts

Clean the baby heads, oil the machine. Drowning in a sea of sick ain’t my idea of a party. They just wanna party on your face and when the morning comes they’ll say goodbye, for another year. And that’s it. Bye.

I could really use some company now. The company of a cigarette. Goddamn stuff’s killing me and I’m pretending it’s the only thing that keeps me alive. Where’s the lighter?

The dream entailed myself and a friend on a night out and soon my friend disappeared into the mists of the night. Disappeared with someone else, some other character with more charm than myself. More interesting. More fun to be with.

My friends pretend to be my friends because they pity me. But now that pity doesn’t count. I can stand on my own two feet tonight and I don’t need my friends pitying me anymore. I pity them for the selfish, arrogant, pretentious bastards that they are.

Tonight, I’m gonna party.

The twentieth century foxes slut around in their topless leather skirts. Parading their wares along the grotty streets of each town’s ghetto. The shit and the rain slides along the gutter and down into the bottomless pit. Customer’s come and go.

Business booms when the misery descends on the town in the shape of grey clouds. They hang above everybody’s head. As visible as the money in their pockets. Effective relief from the trappings of modern society. It’s difficult to imagine these people belong to the same human race as myself. I need some relief.

Looking over the pub food menu in Salisbury
Looking over Salisbury from the car park (?)