January 2010
27 posts
1 tag
Write one leaf about paint.
(via writeoneleaf)
Sometimes, when I’m talking to Miranda, when she is twisting her hair and she is chewing her gum. I get a feeling, something of an inclination, that maybe I’d be having a much better time watching a freshly painted wall. It isn’t so much the things that she says, but the way that she says them; I just cannot find a way to justify the time I spend in her company. We went for a...
1 tag
Afternoon
Howard stood at the foot of the mountain and contemplated the journey ahead of him; It required so much strength and energy. It would take character and courage, he had neither of these.
1 tag
more ghosts
“the jig is up” says a ghost i used to sleep with i want to bring her back to life in that room again. to lay her right there on the operating table.
1 tag
short story about nothing
Police came to my door, ask me if I touched her.
“How do you mean, officer?”
I have an honest face. I smile nervously. Bastard barks tactless obscenities, asks me if I “fucked” her. Can you believe it, an officer of the law asking me if I’ve fucked a girl that age? I won’t answer him. I won’t give the sadist the satisfaction.
1 tag
"Encounter with a girl on the tube", an annecdote
So I’m at elephant and castle underground station sitting down minding my own business, and this fairly gorgeous character is sat down two a seat away from me. No biggie, right? I’ll do the whole awkward look-at-her-when-she’s-not-looking-try-to-seem-like-I-see-hot-babes-within-two-feet-of-me-all-the-time-read-a-boook-so-i-seem-aloof thing but it doesn’t work cause I swear...
1 tag
"radical ghosts"
more shitty “poetry”
Let me tell you about radical ghosts,little boys with sheets over their heads Listen i never said that i wasn’t afraid of whatever it is im not supposed to be afraid of, and those radical ghosts have been chasing me up all night, little spooks why’d you bother me so? im just a man with an itch and conscience painted all blue and black, thats the...
1 tag
The end of a short story I wrote but never...
Its day break and my sandpaper mouth and I have found ourselves waking up in the company of strangers. Faces that look as haggard as I feel glance up at me discerningly before falling back on to pillows and empty patches of kitchen floor; I guess that’s my cue to leave and lord knows I’m going to take it.
Grimacing all the way, I pull myself up off of the sofa I was lucky enough to have passed...
1 tag
Scoring or Sleeping giants that won't come to.
So, we’re sitting on my sofa and we’ve been talking for a while, but I run out of shit to say. I can see her attention slipping away from me. For the little its worth I try to breathe some life in to the situation. I start off easy with some generic spiel about how hot it’s been these last couple of nights,
“Weather’s something else these days, doncha...
1 tag
Dis Heat
Beautiful girl gets on the bus and sits in front of me. I put my nose in a book to avoid staring at her, not much of what’s written on the page leaps out at me, its like substituting roast dinners for happy meals. I turn to look out the window. I see a guy throwing up on the New Kent Road. Throwing up in god’s honest daylight, then walking away as if it never happened. Heaven help me,...
1 tag
Her and I, and the Mountain
I said all these fancy things, and they were meant to come out like a joke. Like I’m being charming, like I’m impressive, like I’m an interesting human being.It all sounded like bullshit from her end. Can’t say I blame her.
Over time I came to realize that I’d built the whole thing up like Everest or something. I’d set up base camp upon tales of an awkward...
1 tag
shitty piece of writing about a shitty party
thick smoke, shitty lungs two kids at party
at corner,
one long, thin nerved out
drugged in youth
one like-so Jane
short hair, dress too
talk begets smoke,
begets cough and
choke
two kids lick lips
look, eyes,
wait for the other
to shut
the hell
up
(long kid) long enough
so maybe they might press
the old page together;
leave little, long lean kid’s kiss
indents
perhaps
...
1 tag
Wrote this for a friend's zine
An Apology.
This one goes out to Sarah, last name unknown. She was some girl who studied art or graphics or something of that genus at Central St. Martins. Bisexual, northern, with a pronounced interest in gender politics and the television show Gilmour Girls, We met one evening at a club night my house mate at the time had put on at The Macbeth; she was very drunk and I’d been spending a...
1 tag
Big City Sartorial
Ties! Yeah I got a bunch of ties, pal. Yeah…Mr Goldstein is always yackin’ about ties: “It really does make a man what he is. How else can you tell a no goodnick punk from a true Prince Of Industry?” He yaps and he yaps, cigar in one hand, the other slouching outta his pocket like maybe he has a gun there or something. Anyway, when I’m down beneath his sight and...
