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wombat versus meerkat
are you sad?
usually. but some days are better than others. friends, liquor, and cigarettes help.
i am a tragic walking cliché.
A few nights ago I wrote a story. A whole story. It feels so good to be able to say that. Sure, it is only two pages with one and a half line spaces between each line, but… It is a whole story.
It tells the brief tale of two children, two brothers, and what they find beside the creek. I would post it but I am just so proud of this work that I think I will submit it to… some establishment which publishes short fiction.
The best part is that I wrote the whole thing at work, on two pages of…
Yay, more snips. I still don’t take pictures because I am lazy and tired all the time. Also, I wrote the last part when I was drunk and dramatic, so forgive me the excess.
:
cut jeans, collared shirts;
flashes and studio lights
in the crystal ball?
…
He feels the anxiety creep up his toes like a five year old’s night terrors realized and begins to bite his fingernails. They bleed quickly,matching the speed of his nibbling. The blanket falls from his confidence and he is shown his true…
I have a job. It isn’t a good job, a hard job, a tiring job. It is a job. I work to get paid so I can live and work to get paid. And after every midnight shift, the walk home is a walk of shame.
You may be familiar with the walk of shame. You may have even taken one or two or twelve in recent months. You don’t necessarily feel totally clean or proud of what you’ve done, but you know it was worth it. Or you hope it was. That is how every midnight shift at my job makes me feel. I walk home and…
I am a part of history. I am the filler, the space between the big names. The air between the grains of sand or the time it takes for glue to harden. I carry the impact of a millipede and the burden of a breeze, with a voice no louder than the noise in black space. I am a day with contenting weather, a bead of sweat on a gigantic organism. The sun does not rise or shine or fall for me, the seas do not roll their waves and run their currents for me, and the books do not bend their spines into…
The worst part about fucking up is realizing that someone at some time told you exactly how it would end. They gave you a hypothetical situation and you found out it was a prophecy that came true.
So, now, you’ve fucked up and what do you do? Cut your losses? Stick it through? It’s a choose-your-own-adventure where every decision leaves you with your mouth full of defeat and your pockets wide empty. And unlike a c.y.o.a., your failure affects the people around you too. There isn’t a thing you…
I know what you’re going to say. Well, one possible thing you will say. “Will, you can’t say cunt! That’s profane!” And you are right. But you are also a cunt. It isn’t your fault, and I don’t mean it in a terribly offensive way. It’s just a fact of life. The internet has made you a cunt too.
Now, it is true I am prone to overgeneralizing and simplifying, but everyone on some level has been formed into a lesser human being by this beautiful heroin a favourite author of mine dubbed cyberspace….
just watched the dark crystal for the first time in twelve+ years. amazing.
There are hours in my life where I feel like someone slipped me a hefty novocaine trip. I don’t know why. I’ve had a good day, a great day, but I want to tear the skin off a squirrel and hit someone in the ankle with a shopping cart. Out of boredom. Indifference. Apathy. The sun rises while my eyes are awake and I don’t care. Bombs could fall and planes could crash and babies could die, killing their mothers during childbirth in a natal pandemic, but I wouldn’t care. Wouldn’t blink.
Is apathy…
