Monday, 31 January 2011
She smiled sadly and said, "Not enough rum."
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
must get rid of. little pink bits. light is busted. fuck it.
He giggled a little. Cried a lot.
Thankfully, he made it to the commode before ritually throwing up, following which, he collapsed into bed with one shoe still on.
Breakfast was silent as usual. He cleared his throat and hid behind a glass of orange juice.
"So, um, Ma. I may have been a little drunk last night."
Friday, 21 January 2011
Thursday, 20 January 2011
Even when he's 40 years old, in a perfectly empty bus, a man will shy away from a seat marked 'Ladies'.
Because he still remembers the taunt, "What, are you a girl or something?"
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
Monday, 10 January 2011
Then suddenly, it's over. Out of the blue, you remember how to breathe. It's a beautiful sensation. It's like the stroke of dawn, when the sun's first ray breaks over the horizon, slowly painting everything it touches. It seeps colour into a monochrome world. Everything changes, shadows disappear. The memory of great, big gulps of air returns to your lungs. And you follow that memory, mimicking it.
Except you're underwater and it's dark.
That feeling you just felt? It's nothing. Nothing.
Compared to the worst feeling in the world.
Friday, 7 January 2011
This one’s been in my head for almost a month now. I’d roughly converted it into a 1000-odd word story that needed a lot of polishing, but then realised that I was complicating something that, at its heart, was a very simple idea. Hence, here it is, in original form.
Monday, 3 January 2011
Welcome back, folks. I’m here again, except I don’t quite think the guy who came back is the same one who left a week or so ago.
I’ve had a rare chance over the past few days to simply unplug. To walk away from my life, almost in its entirety, and look at it from a distance. It’s a beautiful gift, I tell you, an opportunity like this. Do it every once in a while. Forget the little things that make up your day, forget the mundane worries that fill every spare moment between dusk and dawn. Look at your life, not as a set of tasks that need completing, but as the beautiful, huge image on the jigsaw puzzle it forms.
I almost lost myself this past week. To myself. To anonymity. To solitude. To sadness. Away from almost everything and everywhere that I have to deal with on a daily basis, I was dangerously free. Untethered. Unanchored.
And a four-year-old brought me back. She and her six-year-old sister made me see what I wanted. Everything is so simple now. So clear.
All of you, do this. Just for a while, unplug from your life. Walk away from it. That way, when you turn around, you’ll see the reason to walk back to it shining brightly at you, clearer than ever before.