Dead Air Space

Tom Zé. Eyesvsassholes

I first discovered Creative Nonfiction when I went into Magnation looking for a fiction magazine. I got told to buy a book. Instead of smacking the shop-boy in the face I bought Creative Nonfiction. I’m definitely going to enter into this competition. It’s time my story about Port Macquarie got some breathing time.

Coming to appreciate a nice drink of an evening after work, while everyone else squeals in the background.

My avocado feels very bruised, but I’m making up for it by making collages of girls with really long pubes and applying for apartments in Berlin. Please house me.

Lyf etc.

(Source: miladyalex, via poppychix)

clickity-click-click

This was a wonderful talk at the Festival of Dangerous Ideas. Far too short, he just had so much to say. Hilarious, sweaty and sexual. 

p.s you can see me in the audience at around 55:00, pushing up my glasses, being very interested. 

if you’re on blogger. follow me. i swear it’s better than this. maybe not? oh he.he.haw.

I am Schrödinger’s Hairless Cat

His hands fondled the plastic open, running his thumbprint along its under-side, peeling it apart from the plastic cheese it covered. A brown wooden box sat beside him on the table and the plastic was laid to sleep inside it. The box smelled like he thought the outside would and he breathed it in. He tore strips off the alabaster cheese and ate them, his tastebuds squealed with delight and stretched out their heads to greet each one. Their little tongues salivating. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

His toes vibrated on the carpet as the door knocked. His hands lingered on the wooden box as he checked his watch. Ten-fifteen. She’s never late. And there she was, affected smile painted on her smooth skin, blue striped shirt tucked firmly into a white skirt, hair straight and black and tucked gracefully behind her ears, arms skilfully managing bags full of groceries. She was perfect. She was perfect and it irked him, like plastic with a breath and a heartbeat. She was the uncanny and he was deep within the Valley. Within it and without it.

“Judy, hello. Come in.”
“Hello sir! I hope I’m not interrupting? Shall I put these away for you?”
“Of course not, and of course. You know where the kitchen is,” his arms directing the way. But she would always wait until he had led her there. And so he did. And she left the door ajar.

Thinking about the past and how lovely people are

I wrote an amazing essay about the winter and about Schrödinger’s Cat in my dream last night, but a ghost stole it, and I think that’s why, when I woke up I completely forgot it. I am very sad.

My Sister is amazing. This is the cover of my first ever zine that should hopefully be finished next week

Gestern Abend hatte ich einen Traum über Deutschland. Ich kann nicht Warten aber ich bin nervös. Es ist lustig, dass Wein man weinen macht. Mein Deutsch ist nicht gut. Mein Gott. 

Whiney whiney i wanna get better