Monday, 31 December 2012

An Ending

I watched Hugo last night.  It's an absolutely stunning film, the sort that makes me feel inspired to create something after watching it.  Quite often I then can't think of any good ideas, and I thought that might happen last night, but was pleased then to find myself writing this poem.

Feel free to just listen to the recording, or just read it without the audio, or read along with me.



An Ending

Pam looked down at the doll in her hand.
She could feel the sand on her skin.
Sand she could not put back in.
Couldn't begin to know where to start
Cos deep in her heart…

The doll was split, the sand was gone,
All of it on the soggy ground
As the rain came down
And washed it all away.

And before you say…

Very Short Mondays: Being Held Here To Change Drivers

"This bus is being held here to change drivers."

Paul froze in his seat.  His skin tightened, the chill ran down his entire body.

This would make him late.

He knew there was another 176 directly behind, but changing buses now would create a whole new set of problems.

They'd see him.  They'd wonder at his sense of urgency.

And so he let events take their course.

He'd wait until the driver was changed.  Watch them leading him away.

He could only sit, could only count the number of points he would accrue as the result of his delay.


Link of the Day: Animated Shorts


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Friday, 28 December 2012

Slightly Less Short Fridays: Some Other Day


Dan was in a bar.

He was with friends.

Now, Dan was single.

Dan wasn't very good at being single.  He wasn't much good at anything to do with being single.

Dan was looking at a girl.  He wasn't looking at her, of course.  He wasn't a pervert.  Cos for all he knew, she wasn't single, or perhaps she was but maybe she was as uncomfortable as he was with all of this stuff, so he didn't stare.  Didn't want to make things more awkward than they had to be.

So he didn't stare.

He was aware of her presence.

She looked nice.

She looked like good company.  She hadn't tried to hard to look good.  Not that she didn't look good.  She looked lovely.

Friday, 21 December 2012

Slightly Less Short Fridays: "The Man With Gloves Coming Out Of His Ears", or: "Cloth Ears"

George sat on the hard red plastic chair in the doctors' surgery. Every so often he tried to shuffle his seat, more out of boredom than anything else. Each time, he had forgotten that it was bolted to the wall, and found himself tugging awkwardly against an immovable object. He looked around, embarrassed, but no one seemed to mind or notice.

He was here to see the nurse rather than the doctor. His ears had become blocked and he had made an appointment to have them syringed. He'd never had his ears syringed before, but he didn't feel too nervous. A friend of his had told him to pour warm olive oil into his ears regularly to soften the wax before his appointment, and he had done so each morning for the past week.

Eventually his name was called. The nurse apologised for running late, and shone a light into George's ears so he could have a good look at the blockage.

"There's a bit of fluff in here," said the nurse.

"Yes," said George. "I noticed that too."

The nurse looked at George.

George looked away. The nurse's stare made him feel uncomfortable.

"I'll get my tweezers," said the nurse, eventually.

"Hold still," he said when he came back.

Bracing George's head with his other hand, he reached into the ear and started pulling at the threads.

George could feel the pressure build in his ear until eventually, something started to move. It felt like the wax was coming out in one large lump.

And then, it was gone. Out of one ear, George could hear perfectly again.

He turned to face the nurse, who was looking at his tweezers and, clutched between, a sticky rag.

"It's a glove," said the nurse eventually.

George stared at the nurse.

"I - I must have swallowed it as a child," he said.

"I guess I'd better do the other ear, then," said the nurse.

"Yes," said George. "You better had."


The (long version of the) title for this story came out of me tucking my friend and coursemate Anjali's gloves under the edge of my hat while I held them for her.  Oh the hijinks we acting students get up to!

Link of the Day: The Beauty of Google Street View


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Monday, 17 December 2012

Very Short Mondays: I Don't Understand String Theory & My Alarm Didn't Go Off Again

It was lighter than I expected.

I reached across for my phone, pressed the home button.  The start-up screen appeared, requesting my PIN.


The bastard thing had restarted itself in the night again.  The time in the top corner of the screen read 09:48.  I still had 12 minutes.  That would be enough.  An hour later I would be congratulating myself in front of trusted colleagues, for making it against all the odds.

I wish I understood how everything works.


Link of the Day: Hair of the Dog


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Monday, 10 December 2012

Very Short Mondays: You Can't Sell Carpets On The Street Corner

The room was already beginning to smell.

Soraya plugged in the hairdryer.  She'd made no money all afternoon, and now she'd have to spend the whole evening trying to salvage the merchandise.

She turned on the radio.  Then turned it off again.  She wouldn't be able to hear it properly anyway.


Link of the Day: Fake Planning Notices


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Monday, 3 December 2012

Very Short Mondays: And The Rain Ran Down The Inside Of The Window

Terence sat there so he could lean his head on the window and have a snooze if he felt like it.

His right buttock felt cold.

Was it cold?  Or was the seat damp?

He hadn't realised at first, but other people had boarded now and there were no other seats left.

He decided to stand.

He still had three stops to go.


Link of the Day: Jean-Pierre Roy's Dystopian Paintings


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