From The Desk of Jareth Cutestory

Too many weird rolling nights in the bass dross of this tropical rot: face greasy and eyes black-rimmed after so much vitriolic swinging between useless frenzy and lethargy.

Crossdressing Austrians, dopesmoking Indian lesbians, psytrance fire-parties attended by roving police maniacs, execrable early 90s retro-discos in the superclubs of Ampang row, strange liver-pickling days in the sludge of KL.

In between all this, he attends rehab workshops ostensibly as a facilitator, runs drama classes in schools and edits the truth from his life as someone might hide porn and drugs in the woods to keep them out of the house.

Malaysia is rancid condensed milk leaking from a rusty can: dribbling out slow, the time here seems almost useless, congealed, dead. Yet back in England a far worse fate awaits, the return is much worse than leaving, and in those vales of Albion ghosts of old age and death await me. My own mortality creeps behind me waiting to trip me up.

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~ by mightyjahj on May 3, 2009.

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