Love Is More Expensive Than Insurance April 30, 2009

Watched a couple of body snatchers peel this man from the ground, take another from the kurb. I was half asleep in the car, I couldn’t remember where everyone else had gone – inside and upstairs, I guess, I remember someone saying something about money for food later on, the guys knew where my stuff was.

I watched them talk to each other, nothing on their faces, their faces nothing. Like little puppets. Little happy puppets, strung to something else. Or maybe they stole bodies for fun.

Big jumpers on a warm night, and they packed the people into a Nissan hatchback. We looked at each other before they drove off, I smiled, so did they. I hope I see them next week. I’m out of town next week.

Maybe the week after. I don’t know. Everyone lives across the road from a graveyard, I just live across from a real one.

Tired And Can’t Sleep April 28, 2009

Burnie things

Make things with gravy on them

Taste better

Because everything is relative

And I’m fairly sure this is an absolute truth

Unless you like burnt things

In which case go ahead and eat whatever of mine is burnt

Nine Ten Fourteen April 27, 2009

“You like autumn?”

“Is this autumn? Isn’t it a bit hot?”

“You’re wearing a massive jumper.”

“This is not a massive jumper. It’s a cardigan.”

“Looks like a fucking big jumper-slash-jacket to me.”

The bus stop was fairly depressing that Tuesday, it was quite warm. Perhaps 25. 25 might not be very hot for some, but those people are most likely from some equatorial country with coconuts and drums and big tourism industries. Sven was also wearing a fairly large jumper.

“Why do you wear such a big jumper all the time?”

“It’s not a fucking big jumper, okay?”

“Whatever. You’re always wearing a jumper, you look like a fool.”

“Do I re-”

“It’s big and it’s green and it’s awful, okay.”

“This is a bit out of the blue, Red.”

It was also threatening to rain. It was one of those weird Tuesdays where it was warm but wet and it caused people to talk inanely at length about the weather. The clouds were depressed and heavily grey, like a big doona someone had pissed on, dripping awful warm wet rain all over the place in big hamburgery drops, making everything smell weird.

“Where is the bus,” Sven began to sing.

“Maybe it’s had an accident.”

“Maybe, you had an accident.”

“What?” Red put down her phone.

Sven pointed to the puddle of rain at Red’s feet. Red went back to her phone.

“Do you want to like, not sit in the rain there?”

“It’s not raining that much.”

“Whatever, douchebag.”

It stopped and started raining, and a cool wind licked every now and then at Sven’s unsocked ankles.

“I think Mr Crouch was driving the bus, and he forgot his ADD meds, and Jason was there, and he was like ‘Oh Gerry, Gerry Gerry Crouch, why don’t you come back to my houuuuch-’ and then he lost it, and went all like ‘Youuu fucking kidsss I’ll fucking kill youu alll’ and this time he did it, and killed everyone.”

“You’re a sped, Sven.”

“The bus will never come!”

“The bus is here, stoogebag, are you coming back to mine?”

“Yeah, I gotta have dinner at mine though.”

“Psht you have your pissy dinner where you like.”

“I hate waiting for your bus.”

“I hate you, noob.”

Hollywood April 25, 2009

Yes. Christian. Yes. Julia Stone did sing this one, and I do like it.

.

They all would have been killed
In the sound of music

They would have found out that
Pinocchio could never tell the truth

She never would have made it to shore
The little mermaid. He would have married a whore
From a wealthy family, after all he wasn’t royalty

…

I blame you Hollywood
For showing me things you never should
Show a young girl
In this cruel world

She still sounds like an effing four-year-old.

To The Roof (Winds-a Blowin’) April 21, 2009

Very very soon, theamazingfruitsalad.wordpress.com will become totheroof.com!

.

Not only will this be an easier URL to remember, but this shiny new website will be about 10 times more awesome, and have about three thousand times less teen angst!

totheroof.com will feature stories and movies and music and pictures, it will be managed by a high-powere-indie-content-management-system just for your alternative needs, and I will be handing out personal accounts for blogging and posting shizz. And games. There’ll be pointless web games.

Comments, comments, I want to know what people want!

Before The Ink-trail Is Too Long April 15, 2009

Pursuant to s 67 April 13, 2009

I am going to put a wok of boiling oil on the stove

And start making dough

And I will make doughnuts.

Or not make doughnuts and instead donuts

Or instead

Walk around my kitchen and look at the streetlights

And be among the streetlights

Or not walk around my kitchen and instead be with the streetlights

I’ve seen the glass from street lights fall onto the road

With a pretty spray of glass and splinters

And I want to be the glass shield from a streetlight

While making doughnuts.

Q&A April 9, 2009

Be away in your land of nod

I’ll take a blanket

And wrap you up

Just be away from that awful sod

I want to give you chainmail

And tend where you are cut

.

Everyone’s sick

Everyone should be hospitalised and have lobotomies

Building On Fire April 9, 2009

The Malasrionese parliament rests at the bottom of the desert, just beyond the estuary that divides Nela from Jou. Its enormous marble columns roll out of its roof, and behind them hang big gold doors, that beam like suns out over both sides of the water. The building had fallen into serious neglect throughout Ragzin’s time in power, no-one saw any point in talking about things no-one had the power to change. Its doors were locked, and everyone left.

The representatives arrived by land and by air.

“They look like children.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

The Minister stepped back from a window, breakfast in hand.

“They’re just milling around down there.”

Bertrina gave him a look to remember.

[It's so hard to write anything without anyone talking, I just can't objectively describe anything without someone Malasrionese telling the story... I don't know, I'll come back to this. My whole admin panel is littered in draft posts I just hate, but need to make... guhhhhh]

This Is Lame, I Know April 3, 2009

Everything is metal

Everything is

Heavy and

Dull and

Scratched

.

Everything runs on tracks

Sparking smoking trains

Exploding chains

.

When I look at the sky

I see a great big gash

Where all the clouds look anxiously

I told them they might get sucked in

If they misbehaved

.

It keeps raining in my shoes

I will hang a Vorticist painting over the gash

And the clouds will stop crying