I will never swear Until Death Do Us Part, never! Marriage vows, like mortgages & retirement, are a death sentence! Marriage is not a word, it’s a sentence!
One of my sister’s marriage vows chilled me to the core:
“For I being poor have only my dreams…
Tread softly for you tread on my dreams.”
My sister can now only dream of her deceased husband for he is gone from this world. Last rites indeed. Marriage rites!
Marriage rights did not deter my father from engaging in a second marriage long long before he divorced from his first. A quarter of a century later, my parents finally put the lid on their marriage & filed for divorce. Prior to that, my father feared involvement in the Irish legal system would be his financial ruin. In the year following their divorce, my mother fell ill & passed away 6 weeks later. My father passed the following year. Until Death Do Us Part.
Serial monogamy saw me through my roaring twenties in the Noughties. Thus far, in the Tweenies, polygamy has ruled for me. I was only dying to play the field by the time I hit 30! By then however, I was in the clutches of a seriously dysfuntional relationship…with a baby to boot! Baby’s father was a ‘controlling manipulative fucker’, to quote my dear departed mother. Controlling manipulative motherfucker, to be precise!
Now, in the late Tweenies, polygamy is not enough for me! After a one night stand with an old flame a fortnight ago, I am hopelessly besotted! I would happily settle down with this motherfucker & have a heap of kids! At 42, I have another decade or so of fertility ahead of me…plenty of time for popping more sprogs!
I have a hot date lined up for tonight with a lovely but lonely Nigerian who I told I would be his friend. No chemistry between us as far as I could tell. I am perfectly happy to enjoy his company without engaging in any sexual shenanigans! Saturday Night Fever has hit me already this Saturday morning…after an afternoon of hot & sweaty Bikram Yoga, I shall be even more raring to go!
I am a stranger to sexual frustration. I’ll leave the wanking to my widowed sister. For 2 years, I lived like a born again virgin. In complete celibacy. And I revelled in it. Even French kissing was a no no for me. Then I broke the seal with a lovely Londoner. He was oh so persuasive & plied me with so much alcohol & cocaine that I was anyone’s bitch! He found it too hard to believe that I hadn’t been with anyone in 2 years. That encounter was very closely followed by a pub crawl leading to one night in a hotel with another lovely Londoner. My next sexual encounter was with the man of my dreams! I now have zero interest in sleeping with anyone else…he will be mine, oh yes! He will be mine!
He is 15 years my junior! Indeed we got together on his 27th birthday! Schwwwing! Rrroll rrroll rrroll in the hay! 12 hours in the sack & still I was not sated! To tell you the truth, I haven’t had an orgasm since reinstating my sex life! No rush! I hear that when a woman has an orgasm, she falls more deeply in love with her sexual partner than before…I am much to much in love with this geezer already to lose myself in him more completely! Time will tell if we are really a match!
I plan to message him on Sunday in the AM, see if he’s maybe about for some mischief & merriment after a feverish Saturday night! Fingers crossed for the best possible outcome! I do dearly hope he’s not rolling in the hay already with some naughty & nubile 20-something babe! Fingers, toes, legs, arms & eyes crossed!
All the while, I’ll be seeing one of my lovely Londoners next Thursday. We plan to go see Bjork’s Cornucopia tour in the 3Arena. He hasn’t sorted out time off work yet & man he works hard but all going well we’ll have a fun night out & probably get a room following the gig. Rrroll rrroll rrroll in the hay!
I’m a heterosexual who’s had homosexual experiences. I guess that makes me gay. I am unquenchingly queer all right & camp as Christmas they tell me. Homosexuality is Mother Nature’s gift to humanity! Population control au naturale! Rrram it up your fucking poop chute!
My last lovely Londoner rammed it up my poop chute alright! Oh the pain of it! It was an accidental entry & it really hurt! Ha ha ha! Ouch! Put on your shit pushers & push some shit! Frolicking fudge packers beware…colonic complications can abound!
Polygamy is all very well & good until pregnancy or sexually transmitted disease strike. A former partner of mine. Martin, a lanky Pole with an enormous penis, contracted something evil after shagging me & someone else in the one week. I subsequently tested positive for Chlamydia but whatever disease Martin had fallen prey to was a lot less insidious but much more symptomatic. Gross. I told him he deserved whatever had befallen him. He declined to say what that was or to give details regarding his symptoms. I never slept with him again.
In 2004, during my so called decade of serial monogamy, I fell pregnant for the second time. Trouble was, I was travelling in South East Asia & was enjoying the fruits of the loins of a man in every port! There was no knowing how pregnant I was or who the father could be. I only hoped it wasn’t Kees, a flying Dutchman whom I had met at the outset of my travels, before I flew from Amsterdam to Thailand. He had a young son about my age, 22 years young. Having his baby would be scandalous & shocking to me & mine!
I had a fiance at home, who it turns out was Daddy. Too late, I was post abortion in a clinic in not so lovely London when I was informed gruffly that I had had “a very big baby”! My mistake had been returning home visibly pregnant, much to the horror of every last one of my friends & family, including my fiance. And after weeks of wandering the streets of my second hometown, the dirty ole town of Dublin, I was escorted to London by my big sister, who fully believed this baby must die for the sake of its dizzy as fuck mama!
Big sister will be dizzy if she ever reads this. Sure Xlibris Publishers are on my trail. Gonna publish Faith In The Ripple Effect in paperback. Wonderful coffee table material! Snippets of mayhem & madness, scripted during periods of BIPOLAR ORDER as created by moi, Faith, rippling in the effect of her writing & her rousing!
I forgive my family but I want them to stay fucked off with me forever. They’re not naughty like me but they’re just not nice. Mercenary mofos! Skinless blistered cunts! Shitpacked shower of wankers!
I can slice anyone up with my tongue easily & effortlessly. Not niceness is a bug that I squash with my swift bare hands! RAH to Random Acts Of Hooliganism in action, kicking people’s asses verbally & if necessary physically! Ask former Sally Army resident, one Dave Butler: I used him as a human punchbag! As I warned him I would if he wouldn’t stop behaving like my bloody bodyguard! I bloodied my wannabe bodyguard alright! 15 times I punched him, he said. Left him bleeding at the mouth into his hands. He forgave me instantly when he woke up the following morning because, miraculously, the blood had disappeared from his mouth & hands.
What a summer I had! The absolute highlight was mutually falling for an amaaazing Spaniard named Andres! 20 years young as it turned out! Was hilaaarious! Andres was drop dead gorgeous. And together we were psychiatrically incarcerated in the south of Spain, Cartagena. Ah sunny Spain! We on the psych ward had a beautiful view of the sunset every evening…I gazed into the setting sun everyday for 6 weeks.
When the psychiatric powers that be released me unto a taxi which would take me to the airport, I was perfectly high as a flying kite! Hit it off rightly with my taxi driver & he took me on a detour to enjoy the finest made coffees in the world. My first sip of delicious caffeine in 6 weeks…I was well & truly buzzing now!
No fecking alcohol available at the poxy useless airport in Murcia…more yummy cappucinos instead! I was flying high getting on that plane to Dublin at 10PM. My flight was due to arrive in Dublin Airport at 11.49PM. We flew through an electrical storm of flaming sheet lightning, slowing our flight & showing the most amazing views right outside our windows! The flight was subsequently delayed by 11 minutes & we touched down in Dublin at 0.00AM exactly, whoosh!
A tall, dark & weird looking gentleman in his late twenties was standing out in the midst of the crowd to greet us arrivals. He held a balloon aloft saying ‘Welcome Home!’ His arms were full. Flowers, chocolates & balloon. Outstanding behaviour. All for me. Plus, it turned out shortly after his meeting with Faith at the airport in such a fashion, a single serving of wicked MDMA…one of my shrink’s nightmares about me. I give him all kinds of nightmares. Such as, I’ll stop breathing in my room from swallowing too many tablets, intentionally or perhaps otherwise…my days of suicidal tendencies are well & truly over. Like they say here in my humble abode & sanctuary, I’m a warrior. Is mise Gormfhlaith, blue princess warrior!
I place all my faith in Gormfhlaith! And so does the not so revered neighbour of my past who sees in me Our Lady, for she is my highest, purest Soul. And she is Post-Post-Modern. I was well aware of Prince’s demise in an elevator before it tragically happened because of my knowledge of The Da Vinci Code. Modern Scriptures are expressed through the creative powers of mankind, Supreme Rulers of Planet Earth & not without great reason & purpose! We are the Directors of the play that is Paradise Found, also the name of an amazing poem I composed on my phone in the window of The Loft Cafe on Dublin’s Grafton Street…the fateful day I met one of my bestest buddies Mr Peter Kane, of Harvest Moon fame.
Harvest Moon on Dublin’s Baggot Street, for those that may be interested in checking out their flotation facilities: a flotation chamber & a flotation tank. I have spent hours of my days floating in heavily salted water in complete darkness & silence. Indeed I spent the afternoon of my 40th birthday soaking in my reveries & reflections & recollections! And also simply repeating a meaningful & uplifting mantra: Ananda Hum. I am bliss.
Faith In The Ripple Effect 