After a long day when I am tired
when I have been staring at a computer screen to long
when I have been getting nowhere
I tie my shoe laces and then go for a walk,
I walk the street, through the park-lands, over hill
looking at houses, paths, soaking in my surrounding,
And then the day didn’t feel so bad, doesn’t feel so long,
maybe I could get one more project done, I have a few ideas!
A daily collection of thoughts rants, rambles, short stories and moments of funny as I trundle and trudge through the mess and muck of my mind with one goal to write ten short stories a day. There will be nine short stories in this collection as I have already posted the first today. Basically all the titled notes below are rants that turn into stories. I did not seperate them as I wanted to show you- the lovely reader. How thoughts and ideas develop in my head, eg. from a rant about the weather into a story about a world of soup. enjoy!
Title: writing is like jumping on hovering boxes, or whatever.
600 words to say I am stuck seems like a loong way to get nowhere. what good is it that I am here and what good is it if I cannot move from here. It seems rather useless to just be and not have the will or power to make it something more than what it seems to be. I start out small or from a point that I can consider to be something worth while and from there I attempt to jump onto a higher point of thought something with a tale that I can grab onto, a sort of method in my madness.
But for now I am happy jumping on boxes, making my way up from one box to a higher box, leaping and making the climb, there is a long way to fall down now, and the sturdy boxes that seem to float in mid-air hold my body weight and the extra force it takes to jump and fall onto one. They are like a cardboard box, though made from copper or brass, but somehow a little softer than hard metal.
I would count to ten hold my breath and then make the leap to the next box. I would do this one after the other. I am not sure why I felt necessary to get this done, but whatever. Writing I have been told is like jumping on hovering boxes, or whatever. I look at how far I have come and it seems so inferiour. I take this time as I am sitting here to masturbate. This is my fantasy and I do what I will. Luckly I had a large bottle of lube in my back pocket, I pulled it out and covered my hand in the sticky mess. I fingered my arsehole. This was how I would start my “self-meditation”. And so it went, touching and prodding myself until I was to tired to care and just wanted to lay down and rest. reaching out with my non-lube-hand I grabbed a hovering box that was within reach and pulled it closer to me, on these two hovering boxes. I curlled up to rest. The warm air was like a blanket and the gental sway of the boxes in the brease rocked me to sleep.
I dreamt long and hard, of solid things, and soft things, I was climbing a great big hill and battling a dragon at some point, but really I was just farting in my sleep. When I awoke the sun was high in the sky and this could be why I felt so strange. could it be that I had grown, could it be that maths was my friend? I do not know where these questions come from or the answers that they would provide.
And so as the sun arose from an unknown point and blue filtered all around me I climbed higher for the purpose and goal of climbing, I had a process, a method to my madness and I was determined to make the climb. as I climbed higher the boxes changed shape from short skinny boxes to long flat boxes, and I found myself dragging small boxes with me, huddling them together to make a little nest in the sky.
I made a flat floor with a raised section for where I would rest. I built walls, and window holes, I made a roof, and after a long day as the sun began to dip away from an unknown point in the sky I hang my feet over the side of my nest and looked on, the world below, and my bottle of lube sitting next to me. I was the masturbatory climber in the sky.
title: 2,000 reasons why to keep on blogging and why THE RULE-SETTER is bad for your town.
A new chapter, I had come to this town to start a new chapter in my life and I was concerned that my past would somehow follow me, Like an unwashed cat, slinking about, meow, meow, meow hiss. On an unrealated not with regrards to blogging I remember reading artilcles online to work out how to run a blog, there were things about adding tags, having titles, and then there was also a side note I had forgotten about blog post over 2,000 words getting a better highraque? Idk how that is pronounced but oh well. So that probably would explain why some of my older, longer blog post have stood the test of time. This post will be 600 words per short thought, times 10 short thoughts for the daily goal which would make it 6000 words? minuse the first thought I had already posted today would bring it down to 5,400 words…. that is a fair few words. and sounds like a busy day to me to write that much. But that gives me atleast 2,000 reasons why to keep on blogging today.
I started this day goal driven, when I make the rules then things go in the direction I want, when I set the goals things go in the direction I want. I can’t sit around for someone else to make up the rules, that would only put me at a disadvantage, who knows what rulse they would make or if they would change them. And like a raging thought that was born in my mind. The rule-setter was born.
Crying and windging the rule-setter was a small child, born with a piece of parchment and a quill. ready to take down notes, and jot down thoughts and ideas. The rule-setter had very few thoughts and ideas but all the same, food, poop, milk, hugs, cold, warm, was a start. these thoughts were scribbled down on the parchment, not as words but as lines that made sence to a baby that had not yet developed the ability to hold a quill, and had no understanding of the language in which it was born into. But with time and desire, the rule-setter began to write more ledgeable thoughts and ideas.
One idea that the rulesetter had was that all milk should be delivered to him before anyone else has any milk, until the rulesetter was full. This caused a lot of problems in the town as mothers and dairy milkmen, would come bounding down the street and up the driveway, demanding to deliver milk to the rulesetter. Women would remove there tops and force their swollen breast at the door, and milk men would attempt to push past the women holding their breast to get his milk closer to the door and closer to the child who wanted all the milk.
The child – rule-setter would crawl over to the front door hungry, and could hear shouting and yelling and the russle of shoving as people crowded around the front door of his home. The rule setter would open the front door and be covered in a delicious mix of milks, this would be the rule-setters daily ruiten. once full, he would utter a content ” thank-you townfolk, that is all enjoy your day” and with a wave shut the door behind himself. left there as the townfolk awake from their frantic daze they would embarised make their way back to their houses and lives and carry on like nothing had happened.
The rulesetter would become more problematic for the town as he grow up.
Title: Fell into a bowl of soup
I was cooking a hot pot of soup, as it steamed away on the stove I ladeled out a portion that I knew I would enjoy. The steam from the soup fogged up my glasses as I breathed in the yummy smells.
I sat down to enjoy my soup, with a spoon I slurped away and drank it down, when I was near finished I put my soup spoon down and with both hands on the bowl drank down the last of it.
I held it above my head to get the last drop, but then the bowl slipped from my hands and it fell onto me.
But instead of it hitting me on my head, I went into the bowl. I don’t even know how this was happening but it was like the bottom of the soup bowl entered me into a portal that took me to another world. A world of soup.
I crash-landed in the soup bowl land, swimming about, treading water. The warm soup and noodles, and peas floated around me, I could feel my whole body becoming more relaxed with the salt bath I was taking.
I had a few slurps of the soup as I stayed afloat. Looking around I did not see an edge to this vast soup ocean. so I started rounding up peas and noodles, tying the noodles in knots, poking holes in the peas and threading the noodles through them. soon I had a pea and noodle raft.
I laid back on my pea and noodle raft, breathing heavily. Now I had time to think.
to be continued…..
title: but gone mad
In the realm of bizarre, I like to think of silly things, explore them and see how far I can take them.
What if my butt fell of? what. I don’t even Understand? Okay so lets say that “the butt” is detachable and is held onto the body with a strap. And one day that leather strap broke and the butt just fell of. Would I still be able to poop?
I would like to think that my but would go on functioning and producing poop as I went about my day. Maybe our lives will change, I have to move interstate to do my busy job.
But every now and then i’ll hit my butt up, we will go out for three coffees, head back to my butts house attach that leather strap, and have a good three coffee poop.
title: bear with me
Stuck, My foot trapped between a rock and a log, oh shit how did this happen,
I was running through the woods, a great bear at my heals, I know how he knew I was there, I am normally so quiet, but tonight I was careless and now I am running, well not running trapped with a bear chasing me.
I turn to hear the rumble of the beast as it pounces ontop of me, I feel the full weight of the bear pressing down on my bones, I hear a snap, oh shit was that a bone? my ribs, I look down to see that the log which had trapped my leg against the rock had been crushed, and my foot slid free, I poked the bear in the ribs and wiggled out.
This big beast, was thrashing about, but was unable to tell the difference between me and the log, as it attacked the log I made my escape, back into the village, I will never be so careless again.
Ttile: the rock-pool beneath my bed
The rockpool beneath my bed,
I let my food dangle, as my toes creat small ripples in the water,
fish swim about, some curiously, touch my toes before continuing on,
the deep blue, how deep I do not know,
once I rolled over in my sleep and fell into the cold, crisp water,
boy did I wake up that day, spashing about, pulling myself up, soaked,
dripping wet onto my white dry sheets that had just me washed and drried on the line that day,
the rockpool beneath my bed, what treasures you hold.
I hope you enjoyed a few of my rants and tales. But for now I will take a break have some breakfast and continue writing today!
In a room to loud,
I have been thinking about how I like to handle things,
living with other people, new people has throw of my internal balance,
where are my hours of pondering? where are my long walks?
I have had a moment to think of it all and have decided to make the most of my time,
I like long walks, I like doing solo activities, it not so much about sadness or anything like that,
I just need uninterrupted steam of consciousnesses to flow though me, to ground me to think it all though in my head, make the move when I am ready.
Words run through writers like water,
A chaotic mess, but with a few specs of gold,
words pump through me like blood in my veins,
But blood and water are no good if they run dry or remain stagnate,
When I am running short on words I like to got for a long walk,
fire up my internal engine, pump the blood again,
until I return with a flow of words ready to pour out onto the page.
lubing up for a nice night in.
Who says you need someone else to have a good time.
All I need is a bottle of lube and my heated blanket.
I like to spend time out in my garden, mowing the laws, weeding the plants and playing with my dog. I feel I can think when I am out there, I can breath, and also I feel as though whatever was bothering me seem to shrink.
Out there between to ferns,
I feel the hot sun, I feel it burn,
My gloves shielding me from the dirt and my sun hat from the sun,
My mind races, and plunders over a sea of thoughts that race over me,
on this very hot, sun afternoon,
I think about business, university, life, death and love,
I think about clutter, uncluttering this garden,
untangling the yard and my thoughts at the same time,
I can not change my situation in one afternoon,
but I can change how I think and feel, and react,
to the magical world I live in.
Do you have a place or activity that gives you space? A place that makes your big problems small? Do you enjoy gardening?
as we enter the dragon,
and the sidewalk, flees from our feet,
can the notes taken be written the same,
If I hear the dragons feet on the sidewalk again.
my broken hand
I wake up and it is still in plaster, wrapped tightly like a glove,
I was going to draw and create all of this uni break,
writing hand, my drawing hand, my crafting hand,
shattered in four pieces,
I sit and look at in despair, how will I get anything done?
I get out of bed, put a shirt over my head, careful with my bulky hand through the arm hole,
sit down at the desk, looking at a blank sheet of paper,
cradling my bulky plaster hand, feeling the texture grazing my palm and fingertips,
I pick up a pen and let the ink seep into the paper, I move up and down the page,
getting a feel for the pen in my hand, seeing how steady my lines are,
a little shaky but I like the style, the innocent uneducated hand I have,
It feels like teaching a child to ride a bike,
And that is when the pen breaks,
I didn’t realize how hard I was grasping the pen, shatters,
plastic spikes penetrate my hand and pinky finger,
I feel the pain, but only stare in shock as ink and blood mix on the page.
When I was eight I wanted to write a novel, But somewhere along the line between scratching for ideas and a word count, I fell in love with poetry, I did not give up in my ambitions but found something … Continue reading
I started turning my poems into songs and dusted of my old acoustic guitar. I think they sound okay, but when I try to record them onto a computer there is so much static and unwanted noise. A mic is needed. But which one? Acoustic guitar with vocals is what I am trying to record.
Any musos out there who could over a few tips on what to get?
BENT ON LOVE 