Wednesday, July 28, 2010
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.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
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
Sunday, July 25, 2010
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.
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
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
Thursday, July 22, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
People King Kong Ain't Got Shit On
Chewbacca
Curren$y
Dave Chappelle
Denzel Washington
Dwight Howard
J Dilla
Me
Mothra
Curren$y
Dave Chappelle
Denzel Washington
Dwight Howard
J Dilla
Me
Mothra
Saturday, July 10, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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