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Sep. 8th, 2006 10:16 am~Waking Life
Richard Linklater
Sep. 8th, 2006
~Waking Life
Richard Linklater
Vinny and the Martyrs of St.Sebastian
Sep. 8th, 2006 12:12 pmVinny's one of the Martyrs of Saint Sebastian, a christian body modification group that have made their homebase here in Terminus, Gee-Ayy. For those of you not up on your hagiographies, Sebastian was a captain in the Roman Praetorian Guard who also happened to be a closet Christian. Now when word got out to his superiors that he was down with the big J.C. this was a big no-no, so he was promptly ordered to be executed by a firing squad of archers. That was how the Roman's handled 'diversity training' back in the day. Now here comes the miracle part, see either Jesus had tuned in to the Sebastian Show or the Mauretanian archers couldn't shoot for shit, either way the man survived his own execution. Well, you know, until his superiors got word of him walking the Lazarus walk and ordered him clubbed to death.
The morale of the story: Jesus apparently doesn't do clubbings.
Meanwhile, almost two thousand years later, here's Vinny hunched protectively over his Vodka & Redbull. His arms are wrapped around the drink forming a kind of moat as he stares down into the surface of the bar with a look that is somehow both vacant and wise. The tops of his forearms (along with the back of his neck), are adorned with a row of stainless steel spike piercings. "Arrows" as the Sebastians call them. With his peroxied hair all feathered up, wide empty eyes and the perpetual pout of his lips he resembles a Mod version of some spiked fish that lives in the darkness of the ocean floor.
Vinny's all haircut and attitude. Junk sexy cool. A man who navigates his life between strange beds by the diplomacy of the shrug. Lizard hissing 'It'sss-all-good-mannn' and constantly bumming smokes off the easily seduced. I never asked him how he ended up with the Sebastians in the first place but I always suspected he's just in it for a taste of some Christain strange.
Still... he's an alright kid. Just dumb enough to be charming and smart enough to get away with it.
"Didja hear 'bout what happened to Hentai-Johnny?" he asks me suddenly lazily brushing a bang out of his eye with practiced grace.
I shake my head with a slow 'No' and motion for Kelly behind the bar for a refill.
"Y'know 'bout his obsession with the Chthulu Porn and shit, right?"
"Naw man?" I say with my own practiced boredom.
Vinny looks around the bar cautiously, for effect I imagine, since there's just him, me, Kelly behind the bar and one very bored stripper mechanically gyrating her hips to that barking style of hip-hop they love here in the South. He leans in and whispers with an air of conspiracy.
"Check this shit out man, you're not gonna believe this but..."
The morale of the story: Jesus apparently doesn't do clubbings.
Meanwhile, almost two thousand years later, here's Vinny hunched protectively over his Vodka & Redbull. His arms are wrapped around the drink forming a kind of moat as he stares down into the surface of the bar with a look that is somehow both vacant and wise. The tops of his forearms (along with the back of his neck), are adorned with a row of stainless steel spike piercings. "Arrows" as the Sebastians call them. With his peroxied hair all feathered up, wide empty eyes and the perpetual pout of his lips he resembles a Mod version of some spiked fish that lives in the darkness of the ocean floor.
Vinny's all haircut and attitude. Junk sexy cool. A man who navigates his life between strange beds by the diplomacy of the shrug. Lizard hissing 'It'sss-all-good-mannn' and constantly bumming smokes off the easily seduced. I never asked him how he ended up with the Sebastians in the first place but I always suspected he's just in it for a taste of some Christain strange.
Still... he's an alright kid. Just dumb enough to be charming and smart enough to get away with it.
"Didja hear 'bout what happened to Hentai-Johnny?" he asks me suddenly lazily brushing a bang out of his eye with practiced grace.
I shake my head with a slow 'No' and motion for Kelly behind the bar for a refill.
"Y'know 'bout his obsession with the Chthulu Porn and shit, right?"
"Naw man?" I say with my own practiced boredom.
Vinny looks around the bar cautiously, for effect I imagine, since there's just him, me, Kelly behind the bar and one very bored stripper mechanically gyrating her hips to that barking style of hip-hop they love here in the South. He leans in and whispers with an air of conspiracy.
"Check this shit out man, you're not gonna believe this but..."
