Unfortunately it’s that time of semester where everything is due. I’m doing a lot of academic reading and sitting next to a lot of other stressed students in the library. I don’t think many of us enjoy reading unnecessarily complicated academic writing- so I’m going to give it a go in the name of my fellow students.
She read rhizomatically through incomprehensible dense thickets of theories.
Inundated with delphic propositions she nearly drowned.
To this day she still has hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia.
I spent most of today doing a huge assignment but I did manage to think of this in the hairdresser just then. Unfortunately I was feeling shy today so there is no photo.
Snippets Barber has never had to sweep up hair, instead they let it compound until it became sentient. Now the hair is cleaned up by small furry beings.
Written at the sushi train during lunch. Then sent on its own train journey as I quickly left the restaurant. Maybe someone will pick it up?
Little pieces of tender meat are carried by the train. Round and round they go, judged on looks alone. Thousands of nervous thoughts try to spill from their bodies like grains of sand. Their skin is delicate like thin sheets of seaweed. Looking out from its transparent cage, one waits for its chance. It does not want to go the way its friends will. As the plastic cloche is lifted and hungry eyes peer in, it rolls out onto the tracks. Feeling the wind ruffle its pickled ginger, it is free at last. It knows the feeling won’t endure, but this moment is all it needs.
A carpet of clothes tell the story of her indecisive nature, the walls are an evolution of her artistic taste and old letters from loved ones jump out of open drawers. The room is a museum she does not wish to exhibit. Like a dragon showing its underbelly, she opens the door. The intruder sits down, immediately at home. Feeling no wounds to her vulnerable tum, she collects precious artifacts, suddenly compelled to give them the a guided tour of her life.
Of all the places I have written over the past 137 days; India, Woodford, Ikea and even from the top of a waterfall, I have never written a story in my room. I decided this was odd and decided to rectify this with the story above. Below is a picture- mess included.
Another day of full on study. The only ‘place’ I’ve gone to today is the grocery store.
You check out my groceries
I check out your assets
But eyes burn into me
I check behind me
The check out boy is staring
His gaze on my behind
Then a wink
“Are you checking out another girl?” he asks
“Shame, I thought we could go on a date”
“Ah, think I’ll have to raincheck on that”
I look back sheepish
“Check or Savings?” you ask, snickering
Caught up with some friends at the Bearded Lady today- I wrote my story there and Chloe suggested I write my story on their hands. It’s a little hard to read so I have a translation underneath.
She was a freak
She shut herself in a tower
And let her beard grow long
One day a fair maiden climbed it
Now they run a fine weavery
From the river.
The tide breathes
In and out
In and out
This time it exhales every last toxin
Its breath carries across the city
Seeping into the suburbs
But in the end it can’t hold on
It takes a deep rattling breath
And the cycle continues
In and out
In and out