The Compostual Existentialist

Wordpress flavour with added crunchy bits

Confess

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Suppose you’d been taken from your country by force and transported to the other side of the planet. Then suppose for nearly 5 years you have had to kneel in a chicken wire cage in a sweltering hot climate with your hands behind your back and your head in a bag. Imagine not knowing what was going to happen next, that no soon as you have started falling asleep that you are dragged into a room where you are subjected to loud death metal or “Its a small world” on endless repeat. Imagine also having to eat and drink your meagre food rations like a dog because you are unable to use your hands.

Then imagine being shouted at by knuckle brained meat head soldiers with penis size issues. Imagine having the shit knocked out of you in a way that doesn’t leave bruises or evidence of assault. Imagine being told every day for 5 years that you are never going to see your home again unless you agree to whatever your captors say. You cannot piss or shit without their say so. You cannot see anybody from out side your prison. You are forbidden to speak unless spoken to. You lose all your dignity, your fight, your resolve. 5 years of this every day with no end in sight.

After all that you’d confess to anything really wouldn’t you

Hell after 3 months of that I’d confess to being Mickey fucking Mouse

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Author: stegzy

Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists.

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