Orange Juice

Short Play 14

1: You're so self-conscious.

2: No, I'm self-aware

Reader's Block

Fantastic, and I read it lazily. Read with google open much more could be taken from it and it would take longer

Comic 1

This is a comic with words instead of pictures. It isn't very good. I will probably do more of these. The future ones will probably be better. If you want one ask

Shoplifting From American Apparel

Frowns Need Friends Too / Person

I can't say enough good things about Sam Pink so I wont say any

i wrote this poem in my head ten seconds ago

i can't remember how this poem was supposed to start
but i can remember that it was only going to be three lines
so i am going to end it here

As I Lay Dying

It is interesting reading a book that has obviously been a major influence on some of my favourite books but not loving it as much as said favourite books. Still a great book

Creation

God said maybe I should put everything outside in a bag. Then we could have lucky dip

seventeen is an odd number

I feel
like the odd wheel
in every situation,

even when
there are only
two of us

.snese tlak mtaetr on,,,,,

fdiners wrhee R? msgease rpley nnoe! things GD mekas tiikhnng waht. mnaes aihnntyg nniohtg. GD GD GD GD GD. auxonis dserespd solution NT B. tlak tlak. nnoe pinot mteatr on. raed raed raed raed raed raed raed raed. mot cluenoolsr tlak tlak GD. msiuc. jcoksan WO mot nnlwaueid si ud ceenthiar. ssnee nnoe. lleony lelony hpapy. snese tlak mtaetr on. cmenomt psleae psalee/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

Some Things That Are Gangsta

Cleanliness

Bow ties

Killing people

Sign language

Shoe collecting

Facial tattoos

Colourfulness

Obesity

Colloquialisms

Robbery

Hairdressers

Athletic scholarships

Jewelery

Short Play 13

1: How's the new job?

2: I'm really passionate about it.

1: You're passionate about ________________?

2: Yeah, I hate it

You Hear Ambulance Sounds And Think They Are For You

Ella Minnow Pea

self expression

AASL,VBARL.ARWKUVBERKVBRWA,VBARJVBYR.VBT.S,BREBVTRAOPBVCNERVBALSECRBVEAPEBCRVLKAVEWLQBVEWAOBRVSKERVABFWEAKHAGRBFELKARKBGARLKWBVAVGRBLKVJSD,BNAKSRAVBAVBRKABVSKTABTKLVBSEAKGVTSLRSVU;TBHLNMYVSRSGVBKAGWVRSLCYEVSRKJHFBWQABFWFQLWGBYRAKEUAFIUUBSTJRAKUTEKHIEJRTBOIUHMRTVJIMNYJMHTVOEWEAFHRVBVTKHBRAYWVBACHVYALH;UVAHYTGUBLRVGRAEWBRFHNSEGBSKHNMTVYUNHJRTVSRYVGTSHUYRHENCFHRBGHFJERVHNBDEGVFWTQGBHNEWRHFVBDCHYSXGTEDYFWHJNUMTHMYJTBUPOIVHFRFTSOGJVFDKVHSRBTVYUJHGTRPOTHIVBRCTSOIGLBHQOIWSKGJBHSENDLIBPTVRSRAKVBAKESVBTIRVYKRUTSVLVTYREHTGVBSKSRSCRSVLKASYRAEUMYTGWEAYFOIAIPHFIAHDWHEANYWHPYHNECUUGRFBHDCFZGXHZCNCXBFZZZZZZZZZGRBHFTVNVMGTSNSVUHYRFNMGTRUVAJGFBDAHNCJGTVBYRHCADYUYGTVIEUOFINFTUOBGRBHTETRGAVSRVFGAYEFGVBSLYTSRYVBAVTBLEAYBERLEVYRBSTBRFBCHHYALJVAYJBRFGTAYLGRYVLGFTVBLORBDCGFHRBCPSDFVRGUMRBCDFVSLGYVBFUJMJVCGBEDBXZHRGVSKSCJRLJKBCWJEAKKKJCRKAVLSECURBYKASBVFRSKDJSBVCYDBSRELKVBYCKYSUVZZKSLIEGYVRSBBSKKVTGSTSFPTRVSSKDPFPSEPFGCAVVARBHARJVBSTJVBKRASTBKVERVBTKSEREKTBSRKLDVBTKRVEKJYJVRBTRSCRSBVTJRCTJVBTJRBFGTSHTRUSIKJTOFRFSEPVSRELBGKARWKLVUSABREYULHGRBCYVSAERGSREAWRVAOCAFEAFSEDAGTYWKVVVVREVRGHAJRAKGVFWAYKGTRVBKHFSEKCGUAFYGRSVKFDGBCV

Happy Person/ Sad Person/ Sam's Person

I can't wait to read Sam Pink's novel Person

Harry Champman

Jackson Nieuwland October 10 at 12:55am
hi harry

its tom!

we went to school together

remember?

can i interview you for my blog?

Harry Chapman October 10 at 2:13am  

I most certainly do remember! How are ya?
Yes, but I will almost certainly have nothing interesting to say
haha


Jackson Nieuwland October 10 at 2:16am  
it's my job as the interviewer to make you interesting =)

can we do it through these fb messages?


Harry Chapman October 10 at 2:18am
Yep, however you like


Jackson Nieuwland October 11 at 5:28am
okay












we used to hang out a bit. now whenever i see you around we say hi to each other but i'm never sure if i should stop to chat and catch up. i find it kind of awkward. the question is: where do you see this relationship going?


Harry Chapman October 12 at 5:47pm

I'm a pretty awkward person. My default position with acquaintances is polite indifference I guess, unless they make an effort. I don't particularly like initiating things in case the person involved is like: this is so awkward, ew I wish he would leave me alone. Them making an effort is an indication that they think I'm okay and then I might respond. So this is a very round about way of saying, I see my relationship with you going nowhere unless you make an effort? Haha excuse my confused ramblings 

 

 

Jackson Nieuwland October 12 at 10:54pm

good answer. i'm the same I think. you have quite a sizeable internet presence: facebook, twitter, lastfm, tumblr, flickr, wordpress, maybe other things i'm not aware of. do you care to comment on this? do you use them all for different reasons? prefer any of them? i find it way less awkward to interact with people online, do you agree? 

 

 

Harry Chapman October 15 at 6:24pm

Sorry this is a little slow coming back. Had a pretty busy week.

Yeah I guess that's true. I guess I like to try different things to see what they're like - which might flow from some delusional impulse to strike it big through some new kind of media.

Yeah I think they all have different uses. Tumblr and twitter are more spontaneous and inconsequential. I think tumblr is my favorite - there are lots of nice people from Wellington, a choice little community. I try and keep my wordpress blog for ideas and when I've actually thought about something for a while rather than stream-of-consciousness. I normally don't create much on facebook/twitter/flickr, just lurk and look at what other people do.

Yeah, I definitely think that online interactions are way less awkward. There's no pressure to immediately say something, and you don't have to mess about with eye contact or body language or whatever, you can just relax and talk more easily. Admittedly, I have had some pretty awkward conversations on the internet. Those ones on facebook where it's flagging right from the beginning, and there are epic pauses where both of you try and figure out something to say. I'm kind of hesitant to ever start a conversation on facebook or whatever because I don't ever want to have the responsibility of keeping a dying conversation going... haha 

 

 

Jackson Nieuwland October 15 at 6:59pm 

when a facebook conversation gets awkward i just 'go offline' and hope they think my internet is on the fritz.

i think technology has trained me to be impatient. i was getting annoyed at you for not replying, which is pretty unreasonable. are you a patient person? do you think the internet effects your patience? ever write people physical letters instead of email? txt much? 

 

 

Harry Chapman October 16 at 5:26pm

Yeah I'm pretty sure my excessive computer and internet use has made me impatient and reduced my attention span. I find it really hard to sit down and try and read complicated/long university readings, my mind wanders pretty quickly unless it's engaging. Watching all those short youtube videos and constantly flicking between things on the internet can't have helped! But yeah, I like to think of myself as a pretty patient person I guess. I much prefer waiting for something to happen rather than trying to force it to happen, if that makes sense?

I've written a few letters to people. I have a quasi pen-pal in Boston. Receiving a letter is much more exciting than sending an email or a message on facebook. You tend to put a lot more thought into it, and then there's the anticipation of waiting for a reply. There's just something about emails that doesn't quite capture the wonder of letters for me. To think that someone has sat down at a desk, got out some paper and a pen, and sat there thinking about what they're going to say is so much nicer than the thought of them tapping at a computer keyboard distractedly.

No, I don't text that much. Being able to text is pretty useful, but it also is pretty frustrating sometimes. Like when you're trying to organize an event between unassertive people, and there are constant backwards and forwards over what time, where, yada yada. A phone call can accomplish so much more, so much more quickly, but I guess they've sort of gone out of fashion - I can't remember the last time I called one of my friends. Bring back the humble telephone call I say 

 

 

Jackson Nieuwland October 16 at 5:31pm 

my problem is that i don't answer the phone when it rings. i think this interview is going pretty well. do you agree? do you ever think about the meaning of life and shit? do you use much profanity? do you like the way i barrage you with multiple questions in each message? 

 

 

Harry Chapman October 17 at 8:52pm

You don't answer the phone when it rings?! Why the devil not?

Yeah it's going better than I thought it would.

I don't really think about the meaning of life that much. I think it's fair to say my parents have had a big impact on my idea of a good life. I guess I think that in order for a life to be fulfilling it's important to make a difference to the world somehow. I know it's not possible for everyone, but ultimately I think if you were to just seek out money for it's own sake and not make a contribution to the well-being of society, you're not going to have a very good/satisfying life? So what I'm saying I guess is that part of the meaning of life involves a responsibility to help out the rest of humanity somehow. Like, there's more to life than just earning lots of money and looking out for yourself, a bit of compassion and altruism has to come into it. But, then again, that's just my two cents. As long as you're happy you're probably doing something right.

I don't really swear that much. Not sure why? I probably need to let loose more and live life on the profane edge haha

I don't mind. It means the interview is covering a lot of ground quickly! I'm impressed that you can think up all these questions, I would be in a pickle if I were doing the interviewing. 

 

 

Jackson Nieuwland October 17 at 9:02pm 

i don't answer the phone because i'm terrified that it will be someone i don't want to talk to. much of my life is ruled by these kinds of unreasonable fears. you have a pretty good concept of the meaning of life for one who contemplates it so little. your parents must be pretty smart. do you still live with them? if so: plans of moving out? if not: what's the current living situation like? your idea f the meaning of life reminded me of something i've realised recently: that i am most happy when making other people happy. do you think this applies to you also? also you used to work at tradeaid yes? was that because you wanted to help the rest of humanity? are you still there? if not: why? do they still stock those fair trade chucks-lookalikes? i'd quite like a pair of those 

 

 

Harry Chapman October 19 at 10:29pm

Yeah my parents are really smart people. They both have PhDs - I have a pretty academic family. I'm still at home, probably moving out some time next year I think? The problem is that this house is really close to university, cheap, and it's the status quo. There's no pressure to leave but I'm getting a bit antsy.

Hum, I'm not really sure what makes me happy. Altruism is good, I guess, but self-interest has probably got to come into it as well.

I did indeed work at Trade Aid. Yeah, I just thought, here I am living my easy middle class life in a developed country, I should really do something for someone else because it's completely arbitrary that I was born into this position. I'm not sure if I really made a difference, but I tried. I'm going to try and give away as much of my salary as I can when I'm old and have lots of disposable income. The moral and political philosophy course I'm just finishing has been quite an eye-opener. But it's hard to be conscientious and to actually achieve anything - I don't really have any answers.

I stopped volunteering there when I went to London this year. And when I came back I wanted to get a paying job (self-interest trumped altruism haha).

They stopped selling those no-sweat sneakers a while back, it was a (admittedly ethical) for-profit company which sort of went against Trade Aid's philosophy I think. Also, they were pretty badly made. The ones I bought fell apart super quick ;) But if I haven't discouraged you I think you can still order them online haha 

 

 

Jackson Nieuwland October 19 at 11:57pm 

you successfully put me off the shoes. that philosophy course sounds cool. what are you majoring in? how long have you been at uni for now? enjoying it? made any good friends there? what's the story behind the london trip? 

 

 

Harry Chapman October 23 at 10:26pm

Oh my god what it's the 23rd of October! Sorry, I'm really bad at this replying to questions business.

Yeah the course is really cool. I thought it was a politics course to begin with (it's double coded POLS/PHIL in the catalogue) so I was a bit surprised when it turned out to be so intensely philosophical.

I'm majoring in politics and history. With a bit of economics, or at least I'm planning to do some more. I'm just about to finish my first half of second year. I do enjoy it, all my courses are really interesting, but it can be a bit oppressive sometimes? Like I know working 40 hours a week for minimum wage or whatever would be infinitely harder, but it just seems sometimes like there is a vast number of assignments and exams and readings to do stretching off into the future with no end in sight. I always procrastinate and don't do the stuff I need to do and then it weighs on my mind all the time and I constantly feel guilty. But yeah, gotta love that university! Oh yeah!

I don't think I've made very many friends at university really? I've just become better friends with people I already knew from high school. It's kind of depressing, I should probably make more of an effort to branch out, and like, expand my friend horizons? But all the people I know already are cool, so most of the time I can't be bothered. I probably should have gone to some kind of hostel instead of living at home?

My parents are both academics and went on sabbatical (work holiday thing) to London. I sort of just went along? I'm pretty lucky really. I volunteered for a Labour MP for the elections. It was pretty cool, she won by more votes than last time! It was good to experience politics first hand I think, studying politics you sometimes forget there are all these individual stories and candidates battling it out on a very human scale, dealing with things that might seem inconsequential to everyone else. Haha 

 

 

Jackson Nieuwland October 24 at 1:16pm 

i've dropped out of uni enough times to know what you mean about the oppressiveness of it. so it looks like a political future for you? where do you see yourself in five years? ten? twenty? fifty? 

 

 

 

Harry Chapman October 27 at 8:52pm

I like your photo. I have a tshirt with scream on it - it's my favourite piece of clothing.

Hmm I'm not sure about politics. Maybe? It seems like a lot of work, and politicians need to be really smart and think quick on their feet and charismatic I guess? It's like an impossible shopping list of desirable attributes, and I don't think I make the cut haha. Also there are a whole lot of people who lose out for the ones who make it. Pretty harsh.

In five years? I'm not sure. Maybe I will have finished a Masters or something. Or decided I've had enough after undergraduate. Hopefully I'll be remotely qualified to actually do something. When I think about what I'll know when my degree is finished it kind of freaks me out - because it's not going to be a whole lot more than now and I can't see how I'm going to have tangible skills or whatever. Hopefully I will have got out of my shell a bit?

Ten years... uhm I'll be 29. Hopefully I'll have a choice job somewhere. Something interesting, where I don't dread going to work, something that is making a difference in some small way?

Twenty.. hopefully have still have a good job, a good relationship, maybe some kids? God it's too far away

Fifty. Hopefully I'll be happy? And I will have achieved something in my life?

Thinking about the future is weird. It's hard to know if I'll a different person or the same, just older. 

 

 

Jackson Nieuwland October 28 at 1:31pm 

i love that painting. in terms of the future i believe that nothing ever changes. thanks for the interview, i had fun. last question: would you like to join http://lotsofsentences.blogspot.com/ ? 

 

 

Harry Chapman October 29 at 11:19pm

I'm not sure about that. I think things change. I think it's pretty much impossible to imagine what's going to happen in the future. Everybody in the 50s or whatever all thought we would be driving flying cars to work by now. I reckon it's the same for individuals - if you look into the future you're just going to be way off in your predictions. Think of all the unlikely events that happen everyday. I'm banking on things getting a whole lot more awesome, but who knows what's going to happen.

No, thank you! I had fun too. Yes I would like to join. But I'm going to need a little guidance?

 

 

Jackson Nieuwland October 29 at 11:46pm 

guidance you shall have.






















so it's cool if I post all of this? nothing you wanna change? 

 

 

Harry Chapman October 29 at 11:51pm

Yeah, it's fine to post everything!                 

    




http://howdystranger.wordpress.com/ 

Cliche

Once upon a time,
on a dark and stormy night,
something original happened

Short Play 12

1: What's you name?

2: Anonymiss.

1: So you're female?

2: No, I'm just bad at spelling

Onomatopoeia

Awkward

Metaphor

I wrote a novel in chalk on a basketball court.
Then the rain came and my thoughts got warped.
I read it back and it was better than before.
And of course this is just a clever metaphor

7 Days

22/09/2010

Today I saw a man whose feet were turned ninety degrees inwards. He walked with a certain swagger because he had to keep his legs further apart than most people. He was wearing a suit. It was a nice suit but he was not wearing it nicely. It was untucked and at a strange angle. His shoes were shiny.

24/09/2010

They scanned my elbow today. I had to lie, topless, on my side with my arm held straight above my head. It took fifteen minutes. My shoulder got sore from holding the position. It is good that I am sleeping in a bed again, otherwise the ache would be compounded.

08/10/2010

Today there was a girl leading a boy around the library. She was either looking for a book or a private area.

11/10/2010

Last night I didn’t sleep.

14/10/2010

I just  talked to a complete stranger and it made me smile. This is strange because usually I don’t like talking to people unless I know them very well and even then not much. He was from Portugal. He looked exactly like someone I went to high school with. I looked exactly like his friend from Austria.

17/10/2010

I was at a party, surrounded by people. I felt lonely so I came home. I am lying in bed. I am lonely.

19/10/2010

I tidied my room. I threw away the mouldy meal my flatmate made for me. I didn’t eat it because it had chicken in it. I hung up my shirts and folded my other clothes. I put lots of pieces of paper in the rubbish bin. I emptied the rubbish bin. It was satisfying.

Short Play 11

1: Life is a mixed bag.

2: Only worth a dollar?

1: No: sweet

Befriend Your Leaders

Feed them chicken nuggets and popcorn chicken and popcorn and creamed corn and icecream.

Give them back rubs.

Follow the rules.

Remember their birthdays and give them extremely personal gifts.

Wear clean underwear.

Only play songs from the approved playlist.

Dance embarrassingly

Short Play 10

1: $7.10.

2: Thank you.

1: Have a nice day.

2: Don't tell me what to do

Short Play 9

1: Where are you going with this?

2: Heaven

25

It’s 3am in the morning
He puts his key in the door.

It’s 4am in the morning
He checks his email.

It’s 5am in the morning
He makes a cup of coffee, finds no milk in the fridge, pours his drink into the sink.

It’s 6am in the morning
He writes, reads, writes, writes, reads, writes.

It’s 7am in the morning
He turns on the radio, shuffles through stations, turns off the radio, leans back in his chair.

It’s 8am in the morning
He walks to the mailbox, brings the mail up to his office, shuffles through it, leaves one letter on his desk, takes the rest downstairs to the paper shredder, shreds it, carries the shreddings down the hall to a storage room, puts them in a plastic bag, carries the bag upstairs, puts it in a bin, walks back to his office, sits down on his chair.

It’s 9am in the morning
He reads the letter, stares at it, turns in over, sees nothing on the back, turns it back over, reads it, stares at it, turns it over, sees nothing on the back, turns it back over, reads it, stares at it, turns it over, sees nothing on the back, puts it down on his desk.

It’s 10am in the morning
He makes a phone call, he can’t understand what the person on the other end is saying, he thought they were supposed to organise a translator, he supposes they thought he was supposed to organise a translator, he hangs up, he looks at the clock, he realises it’s 6am in the morning in Beijing, he looks down at his notes, he was supposed to ring at 1pm in the afternoon.

It’s 11am in the morning
He walks to the doorstep, picks up the newspaper, brings it up to his office, turns through every page, picks up a pair of scissors, carefully cuts out three articles, leaves the articles on his desk, takes the rest downstairs to the paper shredder, shreds it, carries the shreddings down the hall to a storage room, puts them in a plastic bag, carries the bag upstairs, puts it in a bin, walks back to his office, sits down on his chair.

It’s 12pm noon
He opens his briefcase, takes out a plastic bag holding a tuna sandwich, a banana, and a small box of raisins, he lays it on his desk, opens it, takes out each item one by one, lays them side by side, he walks down to the kitchen, takes a glass from out of a cupboard, fills it with water from the tap, brings it up to his office, puts it down on his desk, picks it up and takes a sip, puts it down on his desk, unwraps the sandwich from its plastic, peels the banana, lays it on the sandwich’s plastic, opens the box of raisins, picks up the glass, takes a sip, puts it down on the desk, eats the sandwich, picks up the glass, takes a sip, puts it down on the desk, eats the banana, picks up the glass, takes a sip, puts it down on the desk, empties the box of raisins on the banana’s plastic, eats them one at a time, picks up the glass, takes a sip, puts it down on the desk, picks up the glass, finishes the water with a big gulp, puts it down on the desk.

It’s 1pm in the afternoon
He makes a phone call, he holds the receiver to his hear for one minute, no one picks up on the other end, he hangs up.

It’s 2pm in the afternoon
He is on the toilet.

It’s 3pm in the afternoon
He hears a knock at the door, he walks downstairs and opens the door, there's no one there, he looks up and down the street, there's no one there, he presses the doorbell, it rings, he looks up and down the street, there's no one there, he closes the door.

It's 4pm in the afternoon
He double clicks on a folder on the computer screen, it opens, it is full of folders, he double clicks the first folder on the left, it opens, it is full of folders, he double clicks the first folder on the left, it opens, it is full of folders, he double clicks the first folder on the left, it opens, it is full of folders, he double clicks the first folder on the left, it opens, it is full of folders, he double clicks the first folder on the left, it opens, it is full of folders, he double clicks the first folder on the left, it opens, it is full of folders, he clicks on the x at the top right, the folder closes, he double clicks on the first folder.

It's 5pm in the evening
He falls off his chair, one of the wheels has popped off, he tries to put it back on, he can't, he picks up the chair, takes it downstairs, takes it outside and leaves it by the mailbox, he walks back upstairs to his office, he picks up the wheel, takes it downstairs, takes it outside and leaves it next to the chair, he walks inside, he opens a door, inside is a room full of chairs stacked on top of each other, he picks up the closest one and puts it down beside him, he closes the room full of chairs, he picks up the chair and carries it upstairs to his office, he puts the chair down, he sits down.

It's 6pm in the evening
He stares at the computer screen, it is the only thing lighting the room, he blinks, he gets up and flicks the light switch, nothing happens, he flicks it again, nothing happens, he flicks it again, nothing happens, he flicks it again, nothing happens, he walks through all the rooms upstairs trying their light switches, none of them work, he walks through all the rooms downstairs trying their light switches only the one in the kitchen works, he walks upstairs and puts all his papers in his briefcase, he turns off the computer, he takes his briefcase downstairs and puts it on the kitchen bench, he sits down.

Its 7pm in the evening
He takes a ciggirette from his breast pocket, he puts it in his mouth, he takes it out of his mouth, he throws it at the rubbish bin, he misses, he stands up and goes and picks up the ciggirette, he drops it in the bin, he goes back to his chair and sits down.

It's 8pm at night
He glances at the coffee in the sink, he keeps working for a few seconds, he glances at the coffee in the sink, he keeps working for a few seconds, glances at the coffe in the sink, he stands up, he runs the cold tap untill all the coffee has been washed away, he turns off the tap, sits down, he hears a drip, he glances at the cold tap, it's dripping, he keeps on working for a few seconds, he glances at the cold tap, it's dripping, he keeps working.

It's 9pm at night
He takes a clearfile out of his briefcase, he opens it, he takes the sheet of paper out of the first pocket, he lays it on the bench, he takes the sheet of paper out of the second pocket, he lays it on the bench, he picks up the sheet of paper from the first pocket  and puts it in the second pocket, he picks up the sheet of paper from the second pocket and puts it in the first pocket, he closes the clearfile and puts it back in his briefcase.

It's 10pm at night
He feels his cellphone vibrate in his pocket, he takes it out to check the message, there is no message, he puts the phone back in his pocket, he takes the phone out of his pocket and navigates to his inbox, there are no unread messages, he puts the phone back in his pocket, he takes the phone out of his pocket.

It's 11pm at night
He glances at the cold tap, it's stopped dripping.

It's 12 pm at night
He checks the time on his watch, he checks the time on his cellphone, he checks the time on his watch, he checks the time on his cellphone, he checks the time on his watch, he changes the time on his cellphone to match the time on his watch.

It's 1am at night
He sees a spider crawling along the kitchen bench, he slaps his hand down on it, he looks at his palm, there is dead spider on it, he stands up, he goes to the sink and washes his hand, he dries his hand on his pants, he sits down and looks at the bench, there is dead spider on it, he stands up, he opens a drawer and takes out a cloth, he cleans the bench, he walks down the hall to the washing room and puts the cloth in the washing machine, he walks down the hall to the kitchen, he sits down.

It's 2am at night
He takes his wallet out of his briefcase, he opens the coin pocket, he empties the coin pocket onto the bench, he organises the coins into ten cent, twenty cent, fifty cent, one dollar, and two dollar piles, he organises the coins into piles each valuing one dollar, he counts the piles, he puts the coins back into the coin pocket, he puts his wallet back into his briefcase.

It's 3am at night
He yawns.

Lies

I am building a book.
I am building a library in my chest.
I am building a chest of drawers.
I am building a home.
I am building a homing missile out of forks.
I am building a fork in the road.
I am building a road.
I am building a roadside bed and breakfast.
I am building a breakfast out of nutella and cornchips and dried fruit.
I am building a bed.
I am lying underneath the bed
I am lying
I am
I am building a lie

A Note For

1. I am insane.

2. It is good to be uncomfortable.

3. I will do anything for you, feel free to take advantage of this

Short Play 8

1: I just want to make you happy.

2: I'll be happy when you are.

1: I'll be happy when you are.

2: Why are you copying me?

Short Play 7

1: I miss you.

2: Why?

asprin meets absinthe

3 raps from this year

I’ve travelled my fair share, I’m purty worldly
Plus I read a lot so I’m wordy like qwerty
Safe to say these days rap is getting nerdy
It doesn’t really irk me
But I still rep the street like Burt and Ernie
I’ve never begged for mercy
Even when my path got curly
And I had to deal with the hurly burly
I made it this far, nothing will ever murk me
Even if the other team is fighting dirty
Most days I wake up early
While the sky’s still murky
But I’m a morning person
So I’m still feeling perky
Firstly I give thanks like turkey
Second I get to working
Making these verses sturdy
But thirdly it’s up to you to decide the verdict


Lights, cameras, Arnie
The official is an army
Any other statement is straight malarky
These other rappers are snarky
I do it big like the tits on Barbie
While they stay talking smaller than a quark be
We new and improved, they dinosaurs like Barney
I’m feeling amped like electric guitars be
Listening to Kweli, and Slick Rick’s Ladidadi
I got steez like a Kids on Swings large T
They got steez like a David Bane cardie
So while they’re at home doing their darning I’m sparring
Trying to get to Ski’s twenty four hour school of karate
I’m an artist with scarred wrists causing carnage
Born a bastard but became glorious like Sa-Ra did
Cause there was hardship but I made it past it
Not the largest, fastest or smartest
But I got the x-factor that you need to shine like a star kid
And that brings us back to the lights which is where we started


I’m spitting wisdom, getting rich from the tooth fairy
But people don’t listen because the truth is too scary
So I’m yelling in the mic like CAN YOU HEAR ME?
Clearly not, but I’m not gonna keep yelling
Got a long journey ahead, call me Magellan
I find those fake smiles sincerely repellent
And the fact that they don’t last is really quite telling
Got my parents saying son we’re in need of you
My friends saying just follow procedure dude
Therapist telling me to be reasonable
But I’m still trying to achieve the unachievable
I rap at altitudes where air isn’t breathable
Sights on the stars, my crew is a constellation
I’m sick of the raps with the product placement
Prefer the tracks that make honest statements
And really, that’s all that I wanna be making
But you can’t get in my head, I’m not John Malkovich
Screw silver, I got a Midas tongue, call me the alchemist

Trip

My eyes fell out of my head. I looked up at the holes in my head. I thought "trippy". I tripped over my eyes. I landed on top of my eyes and couldn't see anything. I tried to stand up but I couldn't differentiate my arms or legs from the rest of my body. I rolled over and was blinded by the light

Building

I am building a dead body.
I am building a mountain on top of the dead body.
I am building a hut on top of the mountain.
Inside the hut is an old man.
In the old man's hand is a book of poems.
The old man is a builder

I seened it!

I saw Bilbo Baggins riding on the back of a dragon holding a flagon of butterbeer
His hair was blowing in the wind and his butt was chaffing on his chain mail underwear
The dragon twisted and Bilbo slipped into the air, dropping like a sack of dragon droppings
He landed on a flock of sparrows and managed to manoeuvre them to a narrow rock outcropping
And he stood there blocking the sun, rocking back and forth, until he calmed down
Then he began to climb down the cliff and at the bottom started heading North
He had a cold so he sniffed and caught a whiff of rotten old dead possum so he turned East
Where the rising sun blinded him and he started to scream, “I can’t see a thing!”
So a group of robbers came, knocked him to the ground, emptied out his pockets and took his ring
Without his vision or his bling, Bilbo had failed his mission of returning home rich
But then he was approached by a witch with a twitch who said she’d grant him one wish
He said, “I wish that poet hadn’t seen any of this.”

We fucked in the oil

it was crude

Short Play 6

1 enters stage right. 2 enters stage left.

2: Hi.

1: Hey, I'd love to talk but I'm in a rush.

1 exits stage left.

2 stands centre stage.

Curtain.

Size 9

The powerlines
are somthered in
shoes.

Powerlines
are a convenient
tax payer funded
shoe storage option.

You can judge
the person
by the shoes
hanging outside
their house.

My sister's shoes
spill over
her section of powerlines
into her neighbour's.
She pays them
for this use.

I walk over the powerlines
sliding my feet
into other peoples shoes.
Children's shoes
are too small,
only my toes fit
and it is hard to balance

Cumulative

All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds.

All of us have a fear. Mine is clowns.

There are clowns in the clouds.

I am hiding behind a cumulus.

I can hear them getting closer.

Skype

All my friends are far away on spaceships.

I talk to them on skype.

I watch them play tag in zero gravity.

They tell me all about the planets they visit.

They tell me words can't describe the wonders.

We play chess over the distance.

They say it's not the same without me.

Julie says she misses me.

I miss Julie.

I miss her hair.

I don't sleep.

I am always on skype.

The time difference is large over light years.

There is always someone to talk to.

They are always distracted.

There is always something going on just outside the webcam's view.

The spaceships are flying further away.

The time difference is getting larger.

I am finding it hard to breathe.

Old age is creaking up on me.

It has been a long time since I stood up.

There are empty packets of peanuts everywhere.

I am thirsty.

I tell Julie.

She tells me the water in space is indescribable.

I Am A Zombie

chat

1: hi

2: hellp

1: whats wrong?

2: nothing, that was meant to be hello

1: wait there. i'm coming over as soon as i can. it's going to be okay

Body

My arm is the shape of a boomerang.
I pull off my arm
and fling it.
It comes back and hits me in the head.

I shave off my beard.
I make a voodoo doll.
I stick my beard onto the voodoo doll.
I grow a beard.

At the counter at the supermarket
I ask the woman
to put my groceries in the bags under my eyes.

I drank my sixpack away.

My toenails are the size of plates.
I eat fish off them.

There is so much tartar on my teeth
I don't need sauce.

I have a map of the city on the back of my hand.

Haiku: Girlfriend

I have a girlfriend
Her name translates to single
Her name is Uni

A Few Things About Circles

Circles are curious.

When circles mate they look like Venn Diagrams.

Ovals are baby circles, they get more circular with age.

Obese circles are called spheres.

Spirals are old circles.

Circles don't wear shirts.

Short Play 5

1: How’s uni going? I heard you’re doing a lot of papers.

2: I dropped a couple.

1: Why?

2: I couldn’t handle them.

1: Oh-

2: See what I did there?

1: What?

2: ‘Dropped’ a couple because I couldn’t ‘handle’ them.

1 turns into a snowman.

1: Haha.

2 pulls the carrot nose from 1’s face and starts eating it.

2: Don’t stick your nose up at me, you’re studying film.

Bed

The phrase ‘climbed into bed’
doesn’t make any sense,
unless you have a bunk bed
or you’re a midget or something.

And if you are a midget
you probably have a mini
bed. So that still doesn't work.

What I achieved today

Short Play 4

1: Can I have your attention please.

Fifteen seconds of silence.

2: Are you going to do anything?

1: No.

2: Then why should I give you my attention?

1: Everyone needs some attention every now and then.

maybe the beginning of something or maybe something all by itself

my english teacher told me the first sentence of pride and predjudice is the best sentence the english language has to offer. she was a lesbian.

Short Play 0

1: have you ever felt like your life was falling down all around you?

2: yeah

1: well its nothing like that

Origami

Chuck swayed into his sleep-out and closed the door behind him. He threw his backpack onto the bed. Moving towards his bed he tripped on a coke bottle. Then he floated down onto the mattress of tissues on the floor. He curled up in a ball. Chuck chucked. He woke up six hours later.
    His head was sore. He couldn’t remember last night. Chuck unfurled and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzed. There was one message sitting inside it waiting to be read. He ignored it and stood up. He stepped across the lawn of tissues to the bed. He took a piece of paper and a pen out of his backpack. He scribbled.

I think I’m a rude person. I can never remember peoples names, so I never refer to people by their names. I say to myself that it’s more intimate that way. You only use peoples names when you’re trying to prove to them that you remember, when you’re comfortable with them you just say hi. Think of how often you use you’re family’s names when greeting them. But it’s all bullshit. I just don’t try hard enough.

Chuck hid the pen and paper under his pillow. He picked up the bottle of coke and drank half of it in order to wash down a pill. He looked at the time on his phone. It was ten thirty.
    He stepped outside of his sleep-out, pulled himself over the back fence into the neighbours’ back yard and walked down their drive way into the street. There were too many people walking around town, so Chuck went into an internet café that was mostly empty. He paid for six hours internet. He googled fluoxetine and then followed the links. His time ran out halfway through a stand-up comedy video.
    He stopped at a office on the way home. The psychiatrist asked him have you tidied your room yet.

Chuck chucked his chucks into the closet. He did battle with the army of tissues until he had fought his way to the other side of the room. He flopped onto the bed, which was covered in clothes, and smothered his head with a pillow. He woke up four hours later.
    His phone was buzzing. There were five messages sitting inside it waiting to be read. He threw it into a shoe. He reached down into the carpet of used tissues and fished around until he found a half empty coke bottle. He pulled it out and gulped the remains in order to wash down a pill. He picked up his pillow and took a pen and paper out from underneath. Then, lying back down in bed, he scribbled.

Once I saw a mouse in the school changing room. There was no one else in there. It was trying to climb over a ledge to get into the urinal but it was too small. It kept trying and jumping. I needed to piss so I stepped over the mouse onto the ledge and unzipped. When I was done, I didn’t look back to see if it was still there, I just washed my hands and left.

Chuck lay back down. He starred at the ceiling. He sat back up and scribbled again.

Was I wearing a hat recently? I remember something about a hat. Maybe it was a dream. Those are the only dreams I have, so normal I’m not sure if they actually happened or not. I don’t know why I would have been wearing a hat. I think it was a beanie. It must have been a dream. More like a nightmare, ha ha ha. Maybe it was at a party.

Chuck put the pen and paper back under his pillow and got ready to leave. He picked up the shoe he had thrown his phone into, found its partner and emptied them into a backpack which he kept on his bed. He put the shoes on and hopscotched his way to the door, only landing in squares where the pool of tissues was shallow. He stepped outside of his sleep-out, pulled himself over the back fence into the neighbours’ back yard and walked down their drive way into the street.
    It was early in the morning, about two thirty he judged by looking at the street lights. He had a while until his appointment so he headed into town assuming he would find something interesting to use up the time.
    It was a Thursday so there weren’t many people around town. The streets were quiet but the shops were still lit up. Chuck saw Micky walking towards him from farther up the street. Micky hadn’t noticed him yet, so Chuck ducked into a Starmart until Micky had walked past. Inside, Chuck bought a Snickers bar. As he walked out of the store he tucked it into his briefs.
    Wandering around town he passed by a transsexual prostitute. She smiled at him.
    Chuck decided to head up to the lookout. He spent the early morning looking down at the lights of the city until it was time for him to leave for his appointment.
    The psychiatrist asked him have you talked to your family? Chuck said no.

Chuck came home after his appointment. He was sweaty. He trudged through the field of tissues in his room and fell onto the bed. He unzipped the backpack and shook it upside down. Tissues and paper and pens and a bottle of water and keys and his phone tumbled out. There were nine messages sitting inside his phone waiting to be read.
    Chuck picked up a pen and one of the pieces of paper and scribbled.

Me and my friends don’t have conversations. We talk but we never converse. More words are spent organising social events than participating in them. Too bad our idea of a social event is going to a movie where we sit without speaking to or even looking at each other. When the film is finished we wander off in different directions without discussing what we just saw. I usually stand just outside the cinema for a few minutes and watch them drift away. I assume they have important things to do.
    Otherwise we get so drunk that we can’t talk. We pass out and when we come to we leave without a word. We go home and post the pictures on Facebook. Then people ‘like’ them but don’t comment on them. Yay.

Chuck took the Snickers bar out of his underwear and dropped it beside the bed, where a whirlpool of tissues slowly swallowed it. He put the pen and paper under his pillow. Then he lay down and looked at the ceiling. He opened the bottle of water and drank a mouthful in order to wash down a pill.
    It was around ten in the morning. Chuck fell asleep.

Chuck didn’t sleep long. He woke up and looked at his phone. There were fifteen messages sitting inside it waiting to be read. His phone said it was two thirty in the afternoon. He looked up at the ceiling. It was blank. Chuck took a pen and a sheet of paper from under his pillow and scribbled.

Sometimes I feel like I’m in a black and white movie. Maybe it’s even a silent movie. If I was in a silent movie I would wait until one of those shots where it’s just text on the screen. Then I’d run away. When they cut back to the actors I would have disappeared.

He put the pen and paper back under his pillow. He gulped some water in order to wash down a pill. Chuck decided to go and get a hair cut. His hair hung over his head like a tarp. He packed everything back into the backpack, put the backpack on, and waded through the tissue swamp. He stepped outside of his sleep-out, pulled himself over the back fence into the neighbour’s back yard and walked down their drive way into the street. He headed to the hairdressers.
    He stood outside and looked in the window. He was too scared to go inside so he started going into all of the other shops, trying to find one with a clock in it. The chemist had one. The clock said that it was five thirty. Chuck thought of something he would like to scribble.

It feels like the appointments are getting closer together.

While he was at the chemist he got a prescription filled. He went to his appointment. The psychiatrist asked him have you talked to your friends? Chuck said no. The psychiatrist asked to look at Chuck’s phone. Chuck passed it to him. The phone had twenty one messages sitting inside it waiting to be read.

When he got home Chuck remembered that he had wanted to write something down. He couldn’t remember what it was. He got out pen and paper and scribbled.

You know those things that look like dandelion heads that float around like miniature balloons? They‘re actually thistle seeds. Kids call them fairies. They say that if you catch one you get a wish. I’ve never caught one, it always seemed cruel to me. Because they are fairies. I can understand catching a leprechaun for his gold because leprechauns have always seemed like dicks to me. You’d never catch me hanging out with a leprechaun. They drink too much, I think too much. But fairies are beautiful, it doesn’t matter if you’re talking about the thistle seeds or the little winged people. Beauty should be savoured, not crushed in a sweaty hand.
    I saw an injured fairy just now as I was walking home. It looked like a dandelion that had only been given a half-hearted blow, like a smoker had tried to wish on the flower’s seeds. It staggered towards me and I wondered if it would be kinder to catch it than to let it go free. If I brought it into custody it could receive healthcare that it wouldn’t get on the streets. Maybe its beauty could be restored.
    I was working myself up to the action. Planning how I would pluck it out of its natural habitat. I would have to be careful, it was a fragile specimen. I was finally going to catch a fairy. But before I could bring myself to do it a gust of wind blew into my face.
    I only closed my eyes for a moment but by the time I reopened them the fairy was gone. It had zigged past me in the breeze. Perhaps it was a sign: I wasn’t supposed to catch the fairy. I’m destined to keep my hands clean of fairy dust. Or maybe I was deliberate, like when I zag to the other side of the road to avoid Red Cross volunteers.

Chuck yawned. That was the most he had written since he left school. Before he could drink anything in order to wash down a pill, he fell asleep.

Chuck smiled when he opened his eyes. He had just had a dream. He quickly scribbled.

I must have worn a hat. The pills stop me from having dreams.

Then he emptied the backpack onto his bed. He picked up his phone. There were thirty seven messages sitting inside it waiting to be read. Chuck read one.

I think I saw you in Starmart the other night.

Chuck chuckled. He sent a reply to Micky.

Yeah. I was trying to hide from you.

He picked the keys up off the bed and locked the door to his sleep out from the inside. Then he started plucking the field of origami flowers, throwing the tissues out of the window where they confettied into a skip.
    Then he folded all of the clothes that covered his bed and piled them on the shelves. When that was done he picked up a vacuum cleaner that had been sleeping at the foot of the bed under a mountain of socks. He plugged it in and used it on the debris that had gathered under the tissues. After he had finished vacuuming Chuck ate the Snickers bar which he had also uncovered.
    He unlocked the door, walked out of it, and used the keys to open the main house. His sister was sitting on the couch watching tv.
    She said hi.
    Chuck said hi.
    He went and had a shower. Afterwards he put on some clothes from the wash basket sitting in the hall. They were less dirty than the ones he’d been wearing.

He went to see the psychiatrist.

    You’re late.

    Sorry.

    Did you have a shower?

    Yes.

    Are those clean clothes?

    No.

    But they are different clothes?

    Yes.

    Interesting. What else did you do?

    I cleaned my room and replied to a message from Micky.

    Anything else?

    I said hi to my sister.

    Did she say anything?

    She said hi.

    Good. So, what brought all this on?

    I didn’t take a pill last night.

    Why not?

    I was tired from writing. I fell asleep before I had the chance. I had a dream.

    How long have you been writing for?

    A few days.

    Can I see what you wrote?

    Chuck handed him the paper and sat quietly while the psychiatrist read it. The psychiatrist handed the paper back and made some notes on his pad.

    So you are feeling better?

    Yes.

    Is it similar to last month?

    Better.

    That is a quick turn around.

    The psychiatrist paused.

    I think you should continue writing a journal. It could be a useful tool.

    What about the pills?

    I can’t tell you what to do. Do you think they have done any good?

    No.

    Then why were you taking them?

    You told me too.

    Do you remember the first thing I ever told you?

    No.

    What I said was: Charles the purpose of these meetings is for me to try and help you to learn to trust yourself.
    Do you trust yourself Charles?

    Chuck nodded.

This April I started recording every book that I read. I gave up like a month later.

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess:
Burgess’ language is amazing, it stayed in my head days after finishing the book.
A great dystopian novel. I never really thought of it in terms of these novels but having read it: about equal with Fahrenheit 451, better than 1984 and Brave New World. Addressing the last chapter controversy, I think it adds to the story, I don’t want a dystopia without a way out. Plus if you get rid of that chapter you ruin the awesome structure of the novel.

A Jello Horse by Matthew Simmons:
This was the first non-Shane Jones ‘indie lit’ novel I read. While I didn’t enjoy it as much as The Failure Six it was still great. I read it in one sitting. There is a lot going under the surface, not all of which I picked up on. The book felt like Matthew was giving me a very large and important part of himself to look after, his liver maybe. I emailed him after reading it and he seems like a really nice guy.

Esio Trot by Roald Dahl
I’m a big Dahl fan but this is not his best work. I did love the image of the living room floor covered in tortoises though. I also thought the postscript was really nice. Sadly I don’t think the marriage is destined to last as it is based on lies and manipulation.

Ever by Blake Butler
I think this book would be best read in one sitting. It would have to be a long sitting though. Blake Butler writes in his own language. This book is a tour of a house, a mind, and a world. I think the house and the mind are more interesting than the world, we’ve all seen decay before. I was interested by the gender of the narrator, she was female but didn’t feel very female, maybe reading the book in one sitting would improve this. I loved the bracket structuring technique, they can be paid attention to or not, an option extra layer. Reading this book didn’t inspire me to write, instead it gave me ideas. Every page caused my mind to produce an entirely unrelated image.

A Cake Appeared by Shane Jones
Having read this book I can say that Shane Jones is now my favourite writer. He is one of the very few artists that I don’t think what I want them to do I just enjoy whatever they end up doing. Sasha Fletcher said Shane Jones’ writing made it seem that anything is possible, I agree. Everything is great, especially HairHeadLand, Half Scary, Flooding Poem, and The Nightmare Filled You With Scary. I can’t wait to see what Shane does next.

The Knot by Jo Randerson
This is the type of picture book I want to make. Perfect. It even has a pun in it.

Through The Door by Jo Randerson
Not as good as The Knot, still really good though. I like the multiple The End’s, I might have to steal that sometime. Plus it has angels in it which always helps. I think I might have to buy Jo’s two other books.

Say, Poem by Adam Robinson
Not only does Adam publish sweet books (Light Boxes, A Jello Horse), he writes them too. The book is made up of two long poems: Say, Poem and Say, Joke, both of which are aware of poetry as performance. The meta-structure in Say, Poem (the poem not the book) is awesome. I like it even more than the poems is contains, which isn’t a slight to the poems because Journal Poem, Say Prayer, and The Cubicle Wall are all great. Say, Joke is also fantastic, its “failed jokes” as Adam describes them are much funnier than most successful jokes I’ve heard. Awesome.

Creation Stories by Matthew Simmons
Matthew Simmons rocks my world. He, like Shane Jones, is one of the writers I’ve discovered this year who have quickly taken places among my favourites. Matthew manages to be fantastically surreal and honest at the same time, plus he’s a really nice guy. Creation Stories is available as a free PDF [here]. Download it. If ‘Two Things That Aren’t Covered by Your Friend with Benefits’ doesn’t make you laugh I wont know what to think.

Inconceivable Wilson by J.A. Tyler


Ghost Machine by Ben Mirov


Bird Any Damn Kind by Lucas Farrell


Scorch Atlas by Blake Butler


Breakwater by Kate Duignan
This isn’t the sort of book I’d usually seek out to read but Kate taught the short fiction workshop I took in the first half of the year. Luckily I enjoyed the book, although the content wasn’t what I usually choose to read about I could relate to it and it was very well written. I’m on the look out for more work by her.

One Was Johnny by Maurice Sendak
Maurice Sendak is a genius, The Night Kitchen is one of my favourite picture books. But he didn’t manage to sell me on his counting book. Too formulaic. I’m not going to co-sign a counting book unless it does something different.

The Keys To Hell by Jo Randerson


The Spit Children by Jo Randerson


Cure All by Kim Parko

This needs a good edit/rewrite. I was saving it for something but can't be bothered now.

Gravity ruled the Earth with a heavy hand. She held down her subjects, shackled them, kept them tied to the ground. They rebelled. They built themselves wings and jumped from mountains but just as they felt themselves gaining traction on the air Gravity pulled them down hard. They dreamt of angels: humans with wings who could float up into the clouds to be with god. Gravity’s subjects wanted to be with god.
    They built hot air balloons but they couldn’t make hot air to reach the clouds so they gradually sank back to earth. This was an improvement. Gravity wasn’t pulling them so hard. They played in their balloons for a long time but it wasn’t enough. They still wanted to be with god. So they built aeroplanes. The first few didn’t work. The next batch could only glide, not fly. After that there were some which flew but could only reach low altitudes. Then finally planes reached the clouds.
    The clouds were a disappointment. Gravity’s subjects searched cirrus and stratus and everywhere in between but God wasn’t there. At night after a long day’s searching they looked up at the sky, still searching for God. Someone said “Maybe he lives on the Moon.”
    They couldn’t figure out how to get to the Moon for a long time, Gravity was too strong for them. Russia and America decided that some friendly competition might help them figure out how to get to the Moon more quickly. The competition worked but the Moon was another disappointment. God wasn’t on the Moon. Gravity wasn’t on the Moon either, so everyone on the Earth got into Russian and American space shuttles and flew up to the Moon.
    Now that they lived on the Moon the Humans didn’t have to worry about Gravity anymore. This meant that they could spend more time figuring out how to find God. Some people were very negative, they said “Maybe God doesn’t exist.”
    Some people were a little less negative and they said “Sure we don’t have to worry about Gravity anymore and we know how to fly through space now but our chances of finding God are tiny. In case you haven’t noticed: the Universe goes on and on forever in every direction.”
    But some people were positive. The positive people said “God must live somewhere in our Solar System. He couldn’t have made it so detailed if he was any further away.”
    So while the negative people stayed on the Moon and played in Hot Air Balloons, the positive people build really good spaceships and searched all the planets. Mars was the only interesting one. Mars had Martians but the positive people didn’t get along with the Martians because the Martians didn’t believe in God. Some of the very negative people went to live on Mars and they crossbred with the Martians. The Human/Martian babies were very pretty but they aged incredibly quickly, dying only a week after being born.
    It would have been funny if God was on Uranus but he wasn’t. The positive people went to Pluto to look for God, even though they had decided years ago that Pluto wasn’t really a planet. God wasn’t on Pluto. More and more positive people were turning into negative people and going to live on Mars and crossbreeding with Martians and their children were dying after a week, so there weren’t many Humans left anymore.
    One of the positive people said “Maybe he lives on the Sun.”
    Hearing this, all of the other positive people turned into negative people and said “Don’t be stupid. The Sun is too hot for God to live on. Don’t be stupid.”
    The last positive person was called Greg. Greg didn’t think he was a stupid person so he decided to go and look for God on the Sun. God wasn’t on the Sun. Greg couldn’t face the embarrassment of facing everyone who had said he was stupid for thinking God might live on the Sun so Greg went to Earth instead. He had always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. When Greg got to Earth he saw God walking around, looking for Humans. Greg went up to God and said “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
    God said “Where have you been? Why did you leave me all alone?”
    Greg said “We couldn’t find you. No one believes in you anymore.”
    God said “My wife and I have missed you all so much.”
    Greg said “Wife?”
    God said “When I am gone Gravity will be all alone.”
    God died.
    Greg cried.
    When Greg finished crying Gravity introduced herself to him. They fell in love and had children which Gravity spoiled. She let them float a few inches off the ground.

American Igloo

I want to have sex with a girl in an igloo
If I said
I want to have sex in an igloo
You could infer anything
Except you probably wouldn’t
You probably already know that I’m a boy
So you probably wouldn’t infer that I was a girl who wants to have sex with a boy in an igloo
You might have inferred that I was a boy who wants to have sex with another boy in an igloo
But you didn’t infer that because I said
I want to have sex with a girl in an igloo
You could have inferred that I was a girl who wants to have sex with another girl in an igloo
Or that I was a girl who wanted to have sex with herself in an igloo
But you probably didn’t
Because you probably already know that I’m a boy
I’m a boy who wants to have sex with a girl in an igloo
There is no girl in my igloo
I have dug a hole in the floor of my igloo
The hole is an inch and a half wide and six inches deep
I am having sex with a hole in an igloo
I should make a movie called American Igloo
It would be almost exactly the same
Except the scenery would be much more beautiful

Oh No!

This post is called Oh No! for two reasons.
1: I have one too many copies of Light Boxes by Shane Jones.
2: I have revealed my terrible photography skills.

Leave a comment saying why I should give you a copy and I might give you a copy.


Shout outs to Shane Jones and Adam Robinson.

People King Kong Ain't Got Shit On

Chewbacca

Curren$y

Dave Chappelle

Denzel Washington

Dwight Howard

J Dilla

Me

Mothra

Sick

Glennis says we are almost in Wellington. She is lying. I can’t see Wellington. I want to go home. Why does it take so long to get to Wellington? She is driving very slowly. The snow is outside the windows. It doesn’t snow in Wellington. Why doesn’t Glennis drive to Wellington faster?
    I don’t like driving. I flew to Hamilton. I like flying because its faster than driving and you get to go up into the clouds. The woman on the plane gave me a lolly. Driving makes me sick. I feel sick. I want a lolly. I want to see Mum and Dad. I haven’t seen them for a long time. Only Grandma Glennis. I think I am going to throw up. I want to open the window. I throw up.
    There is sick on my top. There is sick on my pants. The window is still closed. The sick smells yuck. We are slowing down. Why is Glennis stopping the car? The smell of the sick is making my stomach want to throw up. I want to go home to Mum and Dad. Mum and Dad and me live in Wellington. Our house is nice. My room is upstairs and it has a low ceiling. Dad says when my head touches the ceiling I can move to the room downstairs. The room downstairs is big. It has lots of shelves for my toys.
    Glennis has taken off my top and my pants. I am cold. I am standing in the snow. There are goosebumps on my arms. It is windy. It is windy in Wellington. There is a windmill up on the hill. Mum takes me to fly my kite. It flies up near the clouds like a plane. When I move to the room downstairs my kite will have a shelf all to itself. I want to move into the room downstairs. I want to go home to Wellington.
    Glennis has taken my bag out of the car. She is taking everything out of my bag. All my toys are in the snow. My toys will be too cold. My arms are cold. The goosebumps on my arms look like hills. There are lots of hills in Wellington. The windmill is on a hill. My school is on a hill. Our house is on a hill. I want to go to my house in Wellington in lie in my bed. The bed in my room is small but when I move to the room downstairs I will have a bigger bed. I want to snuggle in bed with Mum.
    Glennis has given me some pants to put on. I don’t like these pants. These pants are too red. I want to wear my blue pants but they have sick on them. I am cold. I try to put on the red pants. I can’t fit them over my shoes. I am crying. These pants are too small for my shoes. Glennis opens the Velcro on my shoes and pulls my shoes off. I tell her my feet are cold. My socks are getting wet in the snow. She tells me to put on my pants. I don’t like the red pants but I put them on. Glennis puts my shoes back on my feet. She straps up the Velcro.
    My socks are wet inside my shoes. I am shivering. Glennis gives me a blue shirt. I try to put it on. The shirt is too small. It is a baby shirt. I don’t wear it anymore. Glennis tries to pull the shirt over my shoulders. The shirt rips. Glennis is mad. I am crying. She gets me another shirt. This shirt is black. I like this shirt. I put the shirt on. Glennis opens the door. I get back in the car.
    We are driving again. It is warm in the car. The heater is on. I don’t feel sick anymore. My clothes don’t have any sick on them. We are driving faster. Glennis says we are almost in Wellington. She gives me a lolly.

Hammer

Hammer was headbutting some nails,
but they wriggled around and
bent into triangles and
went into the wood all crooked.
Hammer yelled at Tom who
was helping him with
the nails.
But Tom was holding Hammer
by the neck.
He squeezed.

Jumping

I used to play basketball.
Every morning me and my team would practice jumping.
The floor of our gym was very hard so when we practiced jumping we hurt our knees.
Some of our players sustained very serious injuries.
We knew we needed a new gym but we couldn’t afford one.
Our team was very poor.
Our rival team was very rich.
We made fun of them for being so rich but still always losing to us who were very poor.
One day they offered to buy us a new gym.
We were suspicious.
We thought they must be up to something.
But they said it was in the interest of good sportsmanship and that their money wasn’t doing them any good so it may as well do us some good hahaha and it was a very good speech so we let them buy us a new gym with a state of the art air conditioning system.
My team went into our new gym.
We could feel the cool air in our hair.
We could feel the springy floor under our feet.
We said three two one and then all jumped higher than we ever had before.
The ceiling fans sliced our heads off.
I don’t play basketball anymore.

Cake In A Nice Way

If Miss Honey was principal
She wouldn’t be Miss Honey at all.
She would be Miss Trunchbull.
She would throw kids in the chokey.
She would hate children.

If Miss Trunchbull wasn’t principal
If she were just a normal teacher
She would be lovely.
She would smile.
She would only feed people cake in a nice way.

If Matilda were stupid
No one would like her.
They would say
“You think you’re so smart
but TV is just as good as books.”
And they would be right.

Ssshh

When I piss
it goes sssssssssssssssssssssshh.
I hear from the next room
someone says ssssssssssssssshh.

Nose

I unscrew my nose
Run it under hot water
Scrub it with an old toothbrush
Dry it with a paper towel
Blow it like a whistle
Screw it back on

Short Play 3

1: What time did you get home last night?

2: One thirty, two.

1: That's specific.

2: No I mean between one thirty and two.

1: Oh.

2: Yeah.

2: I could get specific though. I sent Grace a text right when I got home.

1: What time?

2: One thirty two.

Short Play 2

1: Do you know how to do a three point turn?

2: Yes.

1: Why are you taking driving lessons if you can already do a three point turn?

2: I love you. I am taking the lessons so I can spend time with you. Also I'm not confident driving on the motorway.

1: If you can fit this black Ford Explorer between those two red Toyota Corollas on the first try I will marry you.

Cupcakes

I make cupcakes.
I pile cupcakes up high to make a wall.
I make three more walls of cupcakes.
I make a ceiling and a floor of cupcakes.
I make doors and windows of cupcakes.
I make a bed of cupcakes.
I make an oven of cupcakes.
I make a computer of cupcakes.
I make myself hungry with all this making.
I make myself stressed wondering if I should eat my house of cupcakes.
I make up my mind not to because it would ruin the house.
Children come and make holes in my house by eating it.
This makes me sad.
I put the children into my oven of cupcakes.
I make them into cupcakes to fix the holes in my house.
The smell of fresh cupcakes makes me more hungry.

More Old Stuff

Alice called her daughter little miss muffet. She even had a special pillow she sat her on, because that’s what she thought at tuffet was. For some reason little miss muffet and dr. seuss’ work were intertwined in Alice’s memory, so every morning she prepared her child’s breakfast singing: “little miss muffet sat on her tuffet eating green eggs and ham.” While she sang Alice poured green into the eggs as she scrambled them.
The name on the birth certificate of Alice’s daughter was not little miss muffet. The certificate read:
Last name: Nulark
First name(s): Jude
Jude’s father had chosen Alice’s daughter’s name. She was not pleased with the decision. He was not pleased with her displeasure. This mutual displeasure eventually led to the removal of Sam from Jude and Alice’s lives. So Alice was the sole caregiver and she called her daughter little miss muffet.
Alice never learnt cooking at school. She never learnt from her mother either. Or her father. To tell the truth eggs were one of the few things she knew how to prepare. As a result of this lack of education Alice turned Jude green.
Alice made her daughter breakfast every day, singing her tune. She used green colouring no.7, the label of which suggested only a few drops would be necessary per serving. The morning after Sam left Alice followed the instructions on the bottle but she was quite disappointed with the result. Experimentation over the next weeks eventually provided an answer to Alice’s problem: half a bottle would turn the eggs sufficiently green.
The mother and daughter enjoyed their first few months without a man around the house. Alice was independent for the first time in her life, and little miss muffet was being well looked after.
On morning Alice went into her daughter’s room to wake her up. She usually woke little miss muffet by opening the curtains and singing her breakfast rhyme. On this day she shook Jude by the shoulder. As soon as her daughter’s eyes opened Alice asked, “Are you okay, do you feel sick?”
“Of course I’m okay mummy,” and a smile were little miss muffet’s reply.
Alice decided her daughter must just need an extra big breakfast and left the room singing.
The next day Jude was even more green but still said she was “just fine mummy”.
After a week Alice got worried. She took little miss muffet to the doctor. The result: “There’s nothing wrong with you little miss Jude.”
And so life continued, little miss muffet getting greener every day, Alice singing her song (the next line of which was: “one fish two fish red fish blue fish“, luckily red roughy and blue cod don’t involve food colouring). Who knows what Sam was doing.

Wish I could still write like this...

She is cool.
Hopes are too.
He isn't cool.
Won't he be jealous of her?
Ask her why he isn't cool he tells himself.
'Why am I not cool?' he asks.
'Because of your hair' she replys.
She grabs a lock of his crazy spirally hair.
'Isn't curly hair cool?'
'Sure it is, but yours is mega curly so it out-cools you.'
Herself is quite conscious of her own perfectly waved hair. She feels bad for Tom. Wonders whether she should apologise. 'How?' She questions herself. Many seconds later she clears her throat. Years it seems since the awkward silence began. He glances at her expecting her to speak. Looks are shot between the two of them. As he starts to walk away she taps his shoulder. If only her popular girl pride wasn't in the way she would say sorry. He turns back to her. 'Might be something embarrasing she wants to say' he wonders. 'Be cool and act friendly' he thinks.

Patchwork

Snow falls in patchwork. Pink and Green and Yellow. When the sun opens its eyes the colours melt into a brown puddle. Cats come and drink the brown. Their hair falls out and their skin turns scaly. They start coughing. Eventually they fall over and stop moving. The sun closes its eyes and snow comes down to cover the cats.