Sunday rants, stories, or whatever.

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!

The noise

As part of my 10 minute stories I have writen this scene carring on from an earler scene I wrote. what-was-that-noise?

Act 5 scene 1

That sound, what is that sound, it going to drive me metal. I can still hear it ringing in my ear. I walk down the street and turn at a T intersection and follow the road all the way down to the main road. The traffic is there, but something odd has happened, there are hundreds of cars as usual making there way to the freeway or on there way up to the contry side. Or just going about their day. But something peculiar is going on here. I look all the way down the main street and realise that all the cars are not moving.

Did they also hear the sound that I heard? Was the sound that strong to so many different people? There was something about that sound that shook something inside of me. I walk in between the traffic that is now stationary to the middle of this normally busy road and look up and down it as far as the eye can see cars stationary.

Did a sound really do all that.

“Ashley!, Ashley!” I hear my name being called as someone rushes over. “Did you hear that noise? It was right in my head!” I small girl asks me, I know her as a family friend. I nod my head and look back down the street.

“Remarkable” I say looking at all the traffic that has stopped. I don’t think I have ever seen this town so quiet or so still. It is almost eiry with all this traffic not moving. Like we are frozen in time.

I head back home. Walk back the way I came turning at the

a cure for everything.

I could not it out. for a long time I would become obsessed with a particular mirical fruit food or activity to get me out of a slump, feel refreshed or help me with a problem. And it would work! It would work so very well that I would rush to the kitchen and pour my third bowl of beans, or glass or apple juice or whatever food I was swooning over. I would shop double or triple that week, making sure my shelves are full of that one particular item. And for a time I would live in bliss.

Then a few weeks later when I am getting stomach pains from drinking to much apple juice, and when to pee for the forth time today. That mirical power that the juice gave me to stay focused and on track, does not work. I remain low on energy, I can barely leave the couch. Have I built up a tolerance? This was always my line of thinking. or maybe I am missing something else in my diet.

I am healthy, fit. Why don’t I have the energy to do much else with my day? This had puzzled me for so long. Until…

Until I realized it was all in my head, 40% physical, 60% mental. without knowing, I was the one holding me back, taking away my energy. I had never said to myself that I could and that I can. So my mind assumed that I could not. This placebo effect I had placed on the food I eat, was something I had control over. And so, when I poured myself a glass of juice. I said to myself loud and clear.

“this juice will give me the energy I need for my day!”

success in the arts

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.

 

Like we used to.

I remember when we used to fuck. That was a long time  ago. Your hair messy, you would not look after yourself. But you would always take the time to undress me. We had no money, because  there were not many options straight out of school, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life at 17. But the world seemed sso daunting, expecting so much from me.

Somewhere along the way we lost our way, I would trade a lot of what I have gained over the years to have that passion again with you. The way you lusted for me. Your eyes constantly on me, as I dressed for work or undressed for the night.

But maybe I am forgetting the bad. Was there a bad? I can’t remember. Oh wait, when we finially went our separate ways in the world. That month still hurts somewhere. It had been mutal, because we both had things going on and wanted to get out of this sleepy town. But once you are out and far from everything you have ever known I start to miss it all.

I came back last june to set up a practice as the local doctor of this town. Not far from where I grew up. So many memories. The times that we wagged school, that snake we found and teased until it chased us. We were inseperatable. I like having these memories around, and to pass them when I go for walks of an evening.

 

While I was shopping the other day I saw you. I heard that you were coming back here to visit your mother, but I did not think it was so soon. I followed you around the shopping center, I did not want to say hello, what would I say? It has been so long. Hiding behind plants and keeping my distance I followed you for a good twenty minutes before I decided it was time to leave and maybe our paths will cross soon enough.

The next day was Monday, the start of my working week. I buried myself in my work and quickly forgot about your arrival. Runny noses, foot injuries, anxiety, the usual, but interesting all the same. I call in the next patient. And walk into my office. Mmmm that name sounds formilure but I am not sure where. Then suddenly you walk around the corner and are standing there in my office. I forget to breath, and freeze up. “hi Jane” you say closing the door behind yourself.

I don’t know what to do. This was so unexpected, Shit say something Jane his going to think you are weird. “EERgh what do you want?” I say. Oh a bit to aggressive. “I mean hello Jessie” I correct myself.

You smile at me for a moment, your pale blue eyes and hair tied back. Neatly dressed, it looks like it would come natureally after years of practice. You hold that smile, the same smile, like you know some secrete that  we share but trying not to blurt it out.

“I was hoping you would take a look at my shoulder, I still get it checked up. Also I came to see you” Jessie said. I smile like a goof. And then remember that I am ment to say something “ah yes I say, that still a bit sore your shoulder, from that time you thought you could stop a bus with your bare hands” I say  grinning. “well take of your shirt and come sit over here”. He abliges and removes his shirt, tanned skin, athletic chest, the muscles moving beneath the skin, a healthy body from years of eating a low carb diet and triathlons. Jessie walks over and sits in the seat infront of me his back facing me. I feel around the joins and draw a line along the scar marks with my finger. I know these lines like my own lifeline. I can smell your body that scent mmmm. I breath in and sit on the bench behind me. You smell so yum, even after all these years. Without thinking I wrap my legs around you. My high heals in your lap. I snap out of it when you pinch my thigh. Ouch. “what, what was that for?” I protest. You laugh and say that your thighs were a bit to tight around you. Oh, um yeah I must have got carried away. Lost in your scent.

“…But I liked it, don’t stop!” You say. Mmm, I have dreamed about this. I massage your shoulders, feeling your skin between my fingers, then my hands on your chest. And then doubleing over I kiss you. My hand slides down to feel your belt and I take it off with my hands. And unsip your pants, my hand in your underwear bringing your cock out, I move the skin up and down playing with your cock. MMM yum It feels so warm in my hand. And all I can smell is you. Your tongue deep in my mouth. Your hands holding my face. Without our mouths leaving each other you tern around and I lay back on the doctors sick bed. My knees open up and I can feel you ontop of me, your weight so comforting. You kiss my neck, hands opening my blouse, you put a finger in my mouth I lick an suck it. Your other hand helps itself to my tits, holding squeezing. Your mouth sucking hard on one, then opening the rest of my blouse as your kisses move down, fingers tearing at my skirt and pulling down my white lace knickers.

I feel you lick me, your tongue on my clit, licking sucking entering me, licking the sides biting  my thigh and kissing there you bite. You hand still in my mouth I suck it as though I am trying to give my best head. And I get really wet. Your tongue in me. I get more and more arouse, the pressure is so intense. Then you come up for air. Your eyes on mine. You grab my hips and pull them towards me, your cock hard. You slide it into me. And push in the last inch. Oh god. It is so warm between my thighs. You bite my ear your breath on my as you side in and out getting faster and faster until I cum. You hold me still as you fuck me for a bit longer. And I can feel your relese as you cock pulsates and your warm load spills into me. This momemet I feel all of you, the connection, sex love. Whatever that was I wanted it for so long. We lay there for some time.

The world around me comes back into focus, and I realise that I am at work, I still have people to see today. And our seesion is just about up. We dress and as you are leaving I write my address on a piece of paper. “come see me tonight around 7pm when I knock off work” I say. “we’ll take some more, over sex”.

You smile and close the door behind you.

Small towns do it better

Title: nervously undress

I think I will start from the start so that you understand how I got here. I heard that Jessie was back in town, home for the university holidays. We never really hung out but I knew him through friends. Anyway, I was on a dating sight the other day and noticed him. I quickly added him and started up a conversation. Like anything, “let’s fuck”. Isn’t the best way to start these things wo we began talking about the weather. His art and what he and I plan to do over the summer. Me I have never left this town, I have had a few jobs but never really found my place in this big bad world yet.

Jessie was funny, and very intelegent. But neat and professional were not his skills. I put in my opinions on how to make his artwork more presentable and we ended up talking for ages, long into the night. I dreamt about him that night.

In the morning I woke to a few text I must have fell asleep while we were still chatting. At this point we had not spoken in person and I wanted that to change. But what if he didn’t like me? What if my chubby face and skinny body with bearly any tit was an instant turn off? I know this not to be true but I can’t help these thoughts from creeping into my head.

Title: The date

Nirvana was playing overhead. I have not heard this song for so long, I have mix feelings about it, it reminds me of school and all those terrible times, but still think it is a nice song. I had asked Jessie to join me after his show. I was in the crowd with many people looking at his works of art. I think some of my advice helped but the talent, skill and dedication was all his doing. I walk inbeween walls of paintings colours, shaded and many emotions projecting themselves inmy direction.

There was a ceremony, wine and cheese shuttled around, and then the crowd started to disperss a little. I got his attention a little later in the evening. And he thanked me for coming to his show. I said “that’s something you say to your mum, you can thank me in other ways”. And I grab hold of his hand and lead him out a side door. It was a dark night, warm and very overgrown in this part of town. I found a slope where we sat down my dress sprawled. I could here a creek not to far and still see the lights from the town hall. I think this is one of the best things about small towns, if you want to be very alone, you just have to take a short walk of a main track. So great to make out in the shadows.

Title: cum with me.

My tits, your dick. My mind is clouded with thoughts of you. I want to get off and I want you to get me there. When I think of you I think of other times we have fucked. The feel of your cock in my hand as you ejaculate, I watch your love juices explode out of your body, and on to my shoulder, tits ands trickle down. So full and white. Love is more than just getting off as an indervidual. It is about spending time making you cum, and that makes it all the better when its my turn to explode.

I love your clean body, contrasting with all the tattoos I have. The difference looks so nice. I love tattoos on me, but don’t like them on men. I am selfish and think they only look good on women, but that is just my personal opinion. I like the way your fingers trace over the artwork, spending time with your fingers and tongue licking the ink. I lean back streach out and press play on the CD player. The tunes start up, fucking music. I wonder if those artist know that so many people have come with the sounds of there voices and instraments.

A short story in the making?

I am aiming to turn one of my poems into a short story. I thought it would be nice to post my progress either chapter by chapter or the whole thing. I went with the whole thing. Here is my first attempt. enjoy! 🙂

Title: 2015: Tax ideology  (short story progrees)

Poem: Tax ideology (chapter titles)

• There is inequity in how tax is paid here I Australia maybe the world,
• Paying off accountants to find loopholes, I’ve earnt it you say?
• But let’s think, what is a quick fix, something obvious, something that hurts,
• Luxury cars, brought with this money stripped from the community,
• Well I would like to stop time, just for one night, venture out with my merry men and women,
• Gone in sixty seconds, Nicolas cage style,
• Change the deeds from coal miner, you single mother, and average family,
• You have worked hard for it, you didn’t even realise you earnt it,
• See happy faces driving around town,
• It’s yours now, don’t believe me? Here there are no self-awarded crowns.

Chapter summaries

1. Travis at 25 realised more and more about the inequality in the world, and while speaking to a friend joked about how he would change it. This joke seemed very plauseable, and scary if it had consequence.
   • This is not about how I feel towards inderviduals, just how I feel how to tax system does not fairly represent the money that is made in Australia. And how I feel towards destruction of our natural beautiful land. Its these strong feelings that drove me to make a plan and send a message.
   • Facts: (have facts jotted at the end of each chapter as a reminder to myself and a reminder to the people why I am doing what I am doing) Once minded it will take 200000 years for the land to recover, every day 20000 fish are taken from our oceans, this will not

2. But how to do it, first you needed to track down the cars, with a reporter friend Travis made on tinder they made an interview will all the fat cats in Australia asking about the cars they drove, making a doccumatenary, they were more than happy to show there pride and joys, this doc was screaned across Australia.
   • There are many reasons why I am doing this, but I am making a forceful change as the rich got that way from playing the system. And now that they succeded we turn around and say play fair. Mmm no, I understand where they are coming from, and don’t think great experctaions is the way to go. For me I will play the system. I will make it work and I will successed. Determination is in my mind.

3. Now how to get the cars from here to somewhere else without anybnody noticing in one night. This would be a big plan, that needed extra hands Taking most if not all his advice from gone in sixty seconds. Travis made this happen

4. People woke the following day to see cars in ther yards with notes on there windscreans , saying it is theres and there is no joke to be had.

• A man got out his crowbar, knowing whos car this was, his boss that fired him 2 months ago, taking the crowbar to the windshield hard and fast
• To get a car to every middle class worker on the census, was something of a chalenege, I wrote notes saying that today, you can drive but tomorrow if you want to trade for a bike or food, or just sell it you can. With a smile at the end of the note
• That day there was traffic chaos everywhere, cars banked up everywhere, but many did not care, as they were enjoying eating chips in a $200,000 car. Sauce stains on the seat.

5. Due to a legal technicality, if the fat cats made any attempt to get the tax back from the community, they will have to backpay their tax, this message only served as a warning to be more generous to there workers, the environment, and to when paying their tax

6. Travis overjoyed with the change he had made in the world, went and got drunk in the afternnon with his friends, it was a hot day and steped on a snake, bitten and in shock he fell back into a ditch where he hit his head, laying unconscious he later died from both the poision and the fall.
   • The funny thing about losing consciousness is that your mind doesn’t register the last view seconds when your head it’s the floor, so for you you only see up until a second or two before you actually loose consciousness. Maybe it has to do with short term and long term memery. Maybe not, either way, Travis is dead now.

thanks for reading. I hope I have the time again to add to it, and make it grow into something nice to read. 

Monday morning rant

I like to do my morning rant, get it all out of my system. shake it off, as swifty would say. and then I can think clearly about the people I love and our connections that we make. and truly get poetic with the finer details of life. I apologies now, if some of it doesn’t make scene. but this is my blog, and I shall rant, however I feel.

so with this sunny day, i shall see friends, get some homework done, join my study group for lunch, as they are always studying. and it helps me study in a healthy positive way. there are so many faces, smiling at me today. it makes me happy that I can be a part of their lives, and them a part of mine. from this rant, story, maybe I will get a [poem]. but for now i shall right with no intention at all, casting out grammar, ans spelling, to not stop the flow, of words from me, onto the page. the faster it pores the better it shall be. i keep telling myself that, what else shall it be? birds are chirping, i can here them sing. its a song for me, I will here it again. 

Love rant.

You are attractive, like a drug to me. I can walk away… just not today. its the start of something. not sure what but its the start of something between me and you and i would like to watch it grow, see where it takes us. i don’t know where and i don’t know how. but i can feel it in me and i can see it in you.

Things have already started, and on a path now. this path on a slope. maybe uphill, maybe downhill, depending on how you look at it. I want for more, and I want it from you. The day moves on without us both, me at the desk and you in the garden. straightening tables, fixing the room, I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to be with people, other than you. love is on a slope, always going uphill, or downhill. never standing still.

It’s not where we started but maybe where we end. In a warm sunny day sitting on a gardens edge. I was eating strawberries, when you noticed me. with a genital wave, you fluttered on over, you strung together with bits of cloth, and hair ties. tired eyes, but happy to be there, those eyes on me. I offer you a strawberry, I say its from coles. the fruit is sweet, and has been in my bag. but now on break, the sun in the sky. we talk and chatter about things we love. I think that’s what I like most about you, your love, for things I love. 

Your hair all tied up, fair and wanting to escape your hair tie. not thick like mine. This moment may be awkward, but I am already cherishing it. the sun in my eyes, the sun on you.

Later that same week i’d pass you on my run, me sweating in the sun. Ten kilometers, fun to run. Our eyes meet, but I can not stop, my blood pumping as fast as my breath. You are at a table in your yard, as pretty today, as the day we met. But this moment now like the one before, I don’t want to disturb in, not even for more.

Personal space

I’ve been here twice, I perceive you as nice. You wont go away, so come here and stay.

Your love not a waste, small cut to shape. Jet black and white. Project your voice as I hold you tight. Mixed up in your personal space.

Submit to me at the end, I swear I’ll be nice.

A purpose for me is written in you.