500 words for Alan Smith..

I was at a party. Where I can’t be sure. All I know is sex was everywhere I looked. Every face I stared into assaulted the senses with the bitter realisations of sex. The music was wretched. I was standing there whilst the personified speakers screamed sex in my face. It was sickening. I had two options; leave or get more drunk. The latter was the better of the two evils so I went to the kitchen, the usual hangout for degenerative misfits who aren’t getting any. It was full of my kind of people who immediately accepted me as one of their own; insensitive sex-depraved bastards. We are the damned, and yet we choose to squalor rather than break free. Where many may wish to enter the houses of the rich and successful, to become one of the aptly named ‘glossy posse’, we are the ones who throw bricks through their windows, kick down their doors and crash all their parties. We are the doomed generation and we could not be silenced, though our songs are discreet and our moods erratic. As Hunter S. Thompson once wrote, “It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.” If that is indeed the way this gut-wrenching world works, we are sitting, poised in our useless position, at the proverbial anus waiting for the first sickening mouthful.
The sounds of sex were deafening. It was like being on the set of some gratuitous fetish production with no holds barred. They weren’t even conventional sounds, more the cries of dying animals being ravaged by gross-looking hunting types deformed by years of inbreeding. As quick as the onset had been it had stopped. I was told afterwards that I had collapsed due to dehydration though I’m not sure that’s possible at all; I’d been drinking all night. The headaches are always at their worst after the collapse. It dents the spirits of a more than desperate individual to find that not only have you had your wallet stolen, but your bitter self-loathing brain wants out as well. It’s something that one just can’t prepare for. I stumbled out of the kitchen and back into the lounge. The music took me again and made me feel nauseous. This kind of self destructive lifestyle isn’t something you can keep up for long without bits of you giving up on the rest. However, if you do it well enough, you last long enough to enjoy the ride.