Archive for September, 2012

at night

Sep 28 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

“Je fermerai partout portières et volets
Pour bâtir dans la nuit mes féeriques palais.

[I’ll lock up all the doors and shutters neat and tight,
And build a fairy palace for myself at night.]”

– Charles Baudelaire, “Paysage” [“Landscape”]

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what i really mean

Sep 19 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

FUCK OFF

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investment

Sep 16 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

i think a lot of people see what i am doing right now as being a little provincial but i find it extremely satisfying to have a position on the staff of a small fairy paper (in case i havent told you already i am correspondent on the romanticism-classicism conflict). it is one thing that i am happy with my work because the pay is nothing special, and the value of the fairy dollar is so high that it seems like the elizabethan pound. of course it cant be exchanged for anything outside of the land of fairy, and im only ever very rarely able to actually make it to fairy at all, so my currency is just prettily accumulating in a jar. but i hope that it may one day amount to a meaningful sum. and, there is always the promise of promotion.

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the prettiest weed

Sep 09 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

to the inner-city home owner, the tiny square of earth on which their abode is planted can seem like an immense park, a carefully planned and self contained world of its own, with the assistance of only a few potplants out the back or a herb garden in a windowbox. but these tiny landholdings may once have been part of some sprawling estate in the hands of a wealthier ownership. in some places, usually in more recently invaded and colonised countries, the original houses of these estates have somehow resisted demolition and remained on their own slightly more significant plot, rising above the typical semi-detached dwellings or small apartment blocks of the metropolitan suburb.

one such mansion had become available for sale in the early stages of its decay, and had been immediately purchased. as it was a proud feature of local history, and a landmark frequently noticed with pleasure on leisurely afternoon strolls, residents of the neighbourhood hoped that the new owner might restore the house to something of its former stately beauty. they had heard of such things happening, or had known of new owners of other large houses that had taken on such tasks themselves, even in some cases learning carpentry to restore fittings approximating earlier styles.

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copyright

Sep 09 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

John was an accountant. he ordered the photocopier in the mail. which was really just his way of saying that he ordered it on the internet, because he was uncomfortable with technology. he didn’t like saying that he bought something on the internet, so if he ever did, he just told people that he ordered it in the mail.

but the photocopier wasn’t something he told people about. at first he didn’t mention it because the acquisition of a photocopier is not generally considered as any truly remarkable event, but before long the machine became a particular secret. he had tried to use it to photocopy some figures he was working on, but the reproduction was all wrong and completely different, as though from another reality. so he tried out a copy of some modernist canonical literary text that had found its way to his shelves (let’s say it was something by virginia woolf, or maybe patrick white – it doesn’t matter what exactly, because John hadn’t read it), and it came out like a completely new book. as great as that work with its pages pressed up against the glass, and sharing certain of its qualities, but not that work – a entirely different, other book, that our world had never seen before.

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nostalgia

Sep 08 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

“Once, when I was young, the past had a hold on me.”

-Traditional

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the end

Sep 07 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

i would write
all the reasons
why i persist
in writing,

but that
would be spoilers.

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plain

Sep 07 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

Jane wished her father would stop staring at her. she had hidden the pain in her jaw well enough until today but it had become overwhelming and she’d had to tell him. she needed medical attention! if she hadn’t been so distracted by his scrutiny she wouldn’t have been able to focus on even the sterile greys and blues of the waiting room. “maybe it’s just your wisdom teeth coming through,” he said, “or…”

Jane didn’t want to be wise, or anything else suggested by that elliptical “or”, she just wanted to be ordinary plain Jane. “stop looking at me like that Dad”, she said.

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the troll and the journalists

Sep 07 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

there was a troll living in the woods, a giant solitary creature enjoying the peace and quiet, and preferring to sleep as much as possible, sometimes for hundreds of years at a time. trolls have saplings for hair, precious stones for eyes, and gold and silver for arteries and veins. some young humans from the paper heard about the troll and came to interview it. they found it asleep and they woke it up by jumping around and making a lot of very irritating noises. it stirred from its rest and shrugged off its bed linen, which was actually a hillside. it was a bit grouchy at first, but it talked to them kindly enough and gave them an interview. their favourite part was when they asked it if it was going to eat them, and it asked them if they wanted it to. then when they had said goodbye and were getting their papers and camera together, it rolled back over in bed and accidentally brought the hillside down on them, crushing them to death. but it never knew what had happened because it was already asleep, and by the time it next awoke to have something to eat, their remains had disintegrated. all of their work was lost forever.

this is not a clever parable about leaving internet trolls alone. it is just a humorous little story, not intended to be taken seriously, about how some make-believe journalists got what they deserved, in a cruel narrative justice sort of way. the kind of way some creative writers take delight in giving cruel and unfeeling endings to their morally imperfect characters, in order to oblige and flatter themselves and their self-righteous readers (make-believe writers and readers, of course).

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The Velveteen Heart

Sep 06 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

Jane loved her work at the data archive, but she couldn’t help looking forward to her weekends with John. Tall, handsome, strong, brilliant, sensitive – always thoughtful and considerate of her needs and preferences – he seemed to have it all. They’d been together for six months now and it was too good to be true. She was waiting for everything to go wrong.

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