Once when I was younger, I wrote the word 'cunt' on a piece of paper, just to see what it looked like. When I say young, I mean real young, like 8 or 9. I don't even think I knew what the word meant, just that it was BAD, and it intrigued me how 4 letters could be so powerful. So I wrote them down and after looking at them for a while, realised I had done a BAD thing and that if anybody were to find what I had done, I would be in serious trouble. So I tried to change it. I don't remember exactly what to, probably 'can't' or something equally as simple. But I could still see the original word. It was still there. I tried to scribble over it. Not good enough. I even think I tried to put it into a sentence, hoping the other words around it would distract from the monstrosity I had put on paper, but the word 'cunt' remained all I could focus on, glaring at accusingly me through the mess of biro. I tried to rip the paper up but I could still see recognisable bits of it on the scraps. So I to burned it, in the sink in the bathroom as so not to burn the house down. After it had been flushed away, out to sea, I still worried. Infact I think I lay awake all night, convinced somebody would discover my secret and I would be punished. I look back on it now and think of it as an incident insipred by nothing but simple childhod curiosity but at the time, as far as I was concerned, I had taken the worst thing I could thnk about, the biggest taboo, and purposefuly made it real, made it...tactile, if only on paper...oh, I was going to go to HELL (or the place where they sent naughty children) for that. But that was then and this is today. Today I am mostly liking prawn mayonaise sandwiches and high heeled shoes that go clip-clop when you walk and late night conversations about nothing but which mean EVERYTHING. There's no need for close-call affirmation, today I feel alive and this story has no hidden meaning, it's just a simple memory
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See you at the Burlesque...