December 2009
26 posts
“I guess the world has figured out that sex isn’t always about romance....”
tripping iii
I’m on a cloud and falling into it. It all moves so slowly, but there’s a rhythm to everything, and a beat behind all of it. I see it move around everyone. There are no faces, just bodies. Bodies everywhere. Some of them move in, others move away, but really they’re all just one mass, pulsating. One part of the mass breaks away and it’s touching me, slow like everything else, but with its own...
“I’m looking for you in the woods tonight,
I’m looking, looking for...”
– Massive Attack, Psyche
tripping ii
Velvety honey; it’s back and so am I. All these gorgeous people around me; they love me and I want to make love to them. All of them. This time their faces are clearer and I almost grab onto one before I’m pulled away to writhe about in the pure ecstatic orgy of music and dance. The lights flash around and I want to hold them. Let them pull me up and take me where they may. Then the light lands...
dialogue on everything iii
X: So what do you want?
Y: I don't know. I just wish the world would stop until I've figured that out.
tripping i
Yeah, I’m tripping. I’m tired and I’m tripping and the world couldn’t be any clearer. Expect the bits that my eyes leave behind. It’s good. It’s better than good; it’s… I wish I knew the words. But they’re falling off my tongue, with their own trip. They taste good as they waltz out of my mouth and into the waiting faces before me. The faces laugh and clap and I feel like crying. I grab one of the...
dialogue on birthdays i
Y: How did you know?
X: Facebook.
Y: I thought I hid my birthday.
X: I wrote it down before you were afraid of death.
It happens suddenly; the pinch in the nose, the tremble of the lips, the pricks in the eyes: like stepping out on a not-quite-winter’s day, wholly unprepared for just how cold it is.
“His life would be so much easier if he weren’t such an idiot. Though I...”
At the bar as the beat pounds everything: the air, the furniture, his body; shaking, pulsing, vibrating. He watched the crowd; primitive, primal; as they dance, jump, to the beat. He has no one to call him into the throng, but no one to keep him out. Men, women, some difficult to tell, some neither: wonderfully different but inescapably similar, even beyond the union in the beat. Caught out of the...
dialogue on love iv
Y: I think I love you.
Z: I've met someone...
She stands, tragically beautiful, at the foot of the stairs, one foot held just above the first step; a moment of indecision.
Then she realises this; the Christmas songs, the decorations, the food, the gifts; is not enough, has never been enough.
She wants to go home; not the house wherein her family resides, for her heart feels far from them, from it; but to some place with which not even she...
dialogue on love iii
Y: I've decided to give up on love. I shall die alone, but happy, henceforth casting myself into a life of blatant hedonism, and wasting no more time with pathetic and short-lived romanced.
X: Bullshit.
The feeling - yes! The moment of falling. To fall forever? Certainly, it would be mundane. But life can be reduced to moments like this: the surprise, the ecstasy; the fall from a curb, the accidental brush of a stranger’s hand; and then the buzz for moments afterwards, and the anticipation of the next moment like this. For the feeling, the buzz fades, but the anticipation remains, always in...
“The more I think about, the more and less sense it makes”
memories of our life together
The jacarandas were out early.
In fact, all the flowers seemed to be out early, and had lasted longer than usual, some even attempting a second flowering, though the summer heat had quickly put an end to that. I was sitting at the bus stop; the bus was twenty minutes late and, consequently (was it?), so were you.
I bit my lip again, this time drawing blood. My fingers tapped against my wallet...
November 2009
48 posts
dialogue on tolerance i
Y: I saw a fat person today.
X: Does the fact that they're fat have anything to do with the story?
Y: Considering that was the story? Yes.
The wing, fragile, delicate, shakes gently, now more violently, in the wind, held up, or so it seems, more by hope than good engineering. Broken from gravity, it breaks through the veil and into the open sky.
It is somehow comforting that the sun is always shining, even when we cannot see it.
But now, somehow frightening, almost terrifying; our anthropomorphic hopes for this most venerated...