The Monsoon Genesis

What time is it now? My head is still spinning from last night… So many bottles, empty and lying in a corner in the kitchen. Sunlight hurts my eyes. Another cigarette will sooth me, the sickly-sweet smell of tobacco keeps me going. Smoke rises up in curls, in waves, so hypnotizing… I want to sleep again, but I must go home. Two bus journeys, far away… Home. My own bed. I’m dog-tired. Smoking still, the cigarette is getting shorter.
What?
Where did I get that stamp? Some venue last night, loud music, pay money… Too drunk to walk. Stumbling into walls and cars and taxis and other modes of transport. Drunk! Alex was worse than me, slouched on the floor multiple times, kept dropping the cigarette… Don’t smoke it now sick! Sick! It was on the floor but it wont make a difference… Health-wise smoking is smoking and the lung will clog up with smoke until they cant breath anymore and then you die… Die away and are replaced. All the time people being born, people dying, people smoking, defecating , sleeping… all over the world. Giant ball of rock hurtling through space full of drunk people smoking.
I must find a new hobby, cigarette nearly finished I’m back where I started sitting in Alex’s kitchen. There’s noodles on the stove, so hungry mmm… Not time to eat, not my noodles. Must go home and make my own noodles. But why? Why must I go home, it’s so far away… So much money. Bloody buses, wish I had some kind of machine. Got plenty of vodka left from the night before, save it for another night. Vodka is good, mix it with water and you’re fine. Well it doesn’t taste like anything but anything’s better than the taste of pure vodka. Bloody drinking game last night too with Kate and Aaron, every time Roxanne was mentioned we drink… Bloody Roxanne. Turn off your fucking red light we’re getting too drunk… Far too drunk I think I’m going to pass out…
Passing out! Alex passed out, wouldn’t stop passing out completely K-Oed on the bathroom floor… I’ve had worse times those running out into the street, Louise Carter’s party, vomiting all over the floor. Seana was a good friend, rubbing my back, went back inside and Louise Carter gives me a toothbrush. Gives me? Get Carter! Miss that girl so much. Miss all my friends. Back alone in the kitchen, only a stump of a cigarette, empty bottles in the corner and some vodka in my bag. Vodka for later, more drinking more smoking more puking… Yuck.
Smoking drinking puking meeting randomers, men or women no difference to me I’ll meet who I want I’ll meet the attractive ones I even meet the ugly ones… Why do I meet the ugly ones? They’re not even attractive I’m such a fucking asshole. It’s like Tara she’s no lesbian but she still likes tits… Typical Tara with her typical tits much like Hayley. No in fact not like Hayley, Hayley’s too good but she’s a raving alcoholic not as much as me though here’s me fecking Patsy Stone smoking like a bloody chimney drinking like there’s no tomorrow perhaps there isn’t? I also like writing, typing, drawing, thinking… I don’t know where to begin sometimes. How do you begin a spiel? What must it consist of?
I need another smoke.
I need another ritual. Calm, soothing incense, candles, meditation, communion with my gods, perhaps I’ll do it later, soon, tonight? The moon is waning, time to banish the bad and summon the good. We’ve got to do something soon, Galway this weekend, what’ll I do? This is what I do! I am me, I am a writer, I know I am I can feel it ever since I learned to write I’ve been a writer and I’ve been a reader for so much longer… I must begin somewhere. I must tell the story. But who am I? Where do I come from?
Cold winter in England, north-west, Whitehaven. My first sight of the world. Birth, disgusting process, wet, cold, covered in blood. Sick! Sick! Sick! Fast, flash forward life and you’ve got Saudi Arabia and its sands. Bloody “dry” country me there running around in a nappy. Stones, sweltering heat, the women must cover up. Sinful bodies, Allah does not approve.
Forsaken bloody land who cares about the rest? Saudi Arabia, Middle East all far away now cold Ireland here I come, cold Ireland here I live in why? Why cold Ireland? This place sickens me I want to leave, go to Germany, go to Spain, go to Japan go somewhere! Somewhere far away, perhaps not. Perhaps just England no, far away! Name I need a name I’m a writer every writer needs a name. Hayley has a name but Hayley’s not a writer Tara needs a name but Tara’s got a name I need a name. A name on my books people will buy, people will read, people will enjoy… Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. I’m sick of this. Think of a name, what word do you like? Raving, craziness, not a good writer’s pseudonym. Need something cutting-edge, something that will stand out… Monsoon season in India, like Edina Monsoon, Absolutely Fabulous sweetie darling sweetie… Lets open another bottle of wine. Wine! I adore wine, I’d love wine. Monsoon, my name should be Monsoon so who am I? Liam Monsoon doesn’t sound good no, a new one…
Danny creeps into my mind. From Eddie Monsoon to Danny Monsoon. I’ve found my name! At the bottom of a bottle of wine, another cigarette Monsoon is born. Tara chose Stevie Moon the two of us have adventures ahead of us. Wild partying, drinking, smoking, puking the great Buddha only knows what else we’ll get up to. Probably pass out in some randomer’s toilet its all good its all good… I hope its all good. Must go visit Hayley soon… Monsoon, I am Danny Monsoon. Not Hunter S. Thompson Danny Monsoon, Moon and Monsoon, together we’ll walk legless down the road and collapse and pass out in a ditch. Leave it all behind, leave Drogheda the stinking, dirty town that it is…
Still in Dun Laoghaire, smoking another cigarette Alex proposes her own secret monologue. Inspiration into my mind! Awaken now, time to be a writer. Must write when I get home. Must have a shower. Must fecking clean myself. Kate and Aaron went home early damn but now after long gestation Danny Monsoon is born. Light up another smoke and crack open a bottle of something good and strong. Maybe a mixer or two, I’ll use wine as a mixer for the whiskey, get me nice and tipsy to write the article but not too tipsy you don’t want to finish on a sober note!
Self-indulgent crap is what this is, is what people will call this but its not I’m explaining the beginning and fuck off, if you don’t want to read it don’t fecking read it! Bloody hell what’s wrong with you people? This is only the beginning of something so there’s a lot more to come then again don’t, and I repeat, don’t’ fucking read it!
You’re going to read it now, aren’t you?
He’s finished anyway, he’s nearly done. Put the cigarette butt out in the ash tray, get up, walk out the door.
Danny Monsoon is born.
And who am I? I’m Monsoon, Danny Monsoon.
I am Danny Monsoon.