Author Archives: Delicto

This mysterious life / I think about Tom

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What caused you to carve your name into the pavement? What is the story behind it? When did you do it?

Tom. Were you a young boy? A feat of bravado in front of friends, who watched in admiration as you scratched your name into history. It will be around for a long time, until somebody comes along and covers it in steaming new asphalt.

Will you grow up to have children of your own? Will you live in a sunny country and grow up sun tanned and estranged from this place? Will you remember that you once scraped your name in this tiny corner?

Tom. Are you the teenage boy who showed off in front of delinquent mates, or maybe it was the girl that you fancied? A girl to whom you had pathetic sex with because of those raging hormones. And this girl might have got pregnant at too young an age.

Are you the one who would never grow old because you got into a fight and somebody killed you with a knife, the blood from a wasted body spilling over the pavement and finding its way into the cracks of somebody else’s name?

Tom. I saw your name and won’t forget it. I will never meet you but will see you as I want to. A tall handsome blonde haired boy with blue eyes. You are probably very different but that doesn’t matter because you have fired the imaginations of others.

Bad Boy Jamie makes me punch my pillow in frustration

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It is a quiet Tuesday and Bad Boy Jamie walks into the bar with his boyfriend. It is time for me to leave and I am about to book an Uber. That important moment comes when you either confirm the booking, or take the risk and stay. My finger hovers over the button, and Jamie whispers in my ear and tells me to stay because he has missed me. I don’t know what to do. I realise that I’ve missed him too, but I also now that he is a total cunt. I look at his messy hair, and unshaven face, and think that at that moment he is the handsomest guy imaginable. But I confirm the Uber booking and say that I have to go home. Later on he messages me and says that I am the only person he wants. I punch my pillow in frustration.

It was the legs I remembered most. Those fucking legs!

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A figure walked towards me. A mysterious figure striding through the coldness of a swirling mist. You were upright, tall and lithe, with a confidence that might have made someone wary. I didn’t recognise you because of the glasses and the fact you had bleached your hair. And I never realised how tall you were, Alfie.

You smiled and said ‘Hi,’ like you always did. You said the same when I last saw you outside a coffee shop in that sweltering heat of summer. Then, you wore a tee shirt and shorts and wore no glasses. But it was the legs I remembered most. Those fucking legs!

Tonight, you made excuses for wearing glasses because it seemed to bother you. I would like to have told you that they made you look handsome but was afraid it might seem like I was flirting.

My nose started running and I thought ‘shit,’ that looked bad. But you didn’t seem to notice. You told me about your new job as a waiter and that you wore a smart waistcoat.

I think you wanted to talk longer, but tonight my conversation seemed awkward. My words were too big to come out of my mouth. As such, I made excuses to leave, and I detected that look of disappointment. But you perhaps weren’t as disappointed as I was with myself. I looked back. You were walking away, going somewhere secret, and I was jealous

Being bad/Being cheeky

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Window Washers by Anthony Goicolea (2015)

Being bad. Being cheeky. Showing tongue. The signs of an exciting life ahead.

Bad boy Jamie: a flash of blade means a flash of leg

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Bad boy Jamie comes in with a crowd, and he plays up to them. His boyfriend comes over and tells me that Jamie is a cunt because he is sleeping with somebody else. I hate to tell him that it is me. But the boyfriend is right. Jamie is a cunt.

Jamie looks over and pretends that I don’t exist. But that boyish charm and those tattoos still make me weak. And then, bad boy Jamie and his boyfriend start arguing about a lad called Jordan who Jamie has been sleeping with. I am hurt and jealous. They start fighting and I’m glad that I can sit in a corner and look at their life unravelling in front of me.

Bad boy Jamie, I do so think you are exciting.

I love the fact that you fight and carry a knife in your sock. A flash of blade means a flash of leg and that tattoo on your ankle that says ‘Jamie’.

At least I have has been

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The scene: a bar. “You shouldn’t be in here,” says the young barman. “And why is that?” “Because you are a has-been.” I am stung, but remember a quote from many years ago. “Well,” I say. “At least I has been.”

The bad boy with tattoos reads classic literature

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And you come to realise that appearances can be deceptive. The clean handsome boy turns out to be an alcoholic; the athlete is hooked on drugs; the sweet angel is a megalomaniac; the mean looking boy, with hoodie and sweatpants, turns out to be polite and eloquent; the bad boy with tattoos reads classic literature.

But you don’t care, sir

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Herbert List. Nach dem Bade (After the bath) (1936)

I am flat, sir. I have been on charge for two years, and now I have overcharged. My battery is empty and I must charge it all the time because it drains too quickly. My battery needs to be repaired or replaced. But you don’t care, sir, because, in your eyes, your health is more important than is mine.

That moment/But those eyes didn’t have hate in them

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Artwork by 非(hi)

Bailey, who I thought hated me. But tonight, I sat at the bar and chatted with someone. But every time I looked behind the bar, he was looking at me. I thought that he really did hate me. But those eyes didn’t have hate in them. They showed fear. And I realised that he was one more person who was afraid of me.

That moment/He tells me to hit him, but I won’t

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Tonight, a lad calls me an “ugly old wet wipe.” The thing is, he is telling the world because he is pointing his phone in my face and recording it all. I tell him not to be rude. He is not clever enough to realise that a bodycam is also recording him.  But he persists. “You are vile,” he says, “And I’m a nice person.” I do what I always do and ignore him. “You’re probably on minimum wage, while I earn loads.” I smile. A female appears and tells me that her friend really is a nice person and that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. I tell her that his behaviour is exactly the reason why I won’t let him inside. She doesn’t agree and tells me that I’m being unreasonable. The lad is still filming. And then he calls me an “old cunt”, but I don’t react. “That’s why you’ll never get anyone, and you’ll die sad and lonely.” And then, he tells me to hit him. But I won’t because that’s what he wants me to do so he can edit the footage and put it on Facebook. Eventually they both walk away, and I realise that I have won, and they have lost.