Monthly Archives: December 2012

Actually Getting to Ride That Pony After All

 
I was SO MAD I gave myself a rage headache and that made me very sleepy so I feel asleep but then I woke up SO MAD again.

What to do?

Ride the pony until it dies. Stay indoors. Hydrate!

Any beating this?

Any beating this?

Is there a rainbow at the end of the pony ride? A light at the end of the pony tunnel? A sliver lining to this clip-clopping cloud?

HA, HA, HA!

No.

Noooooooo!  
 

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Filed under Animals, Emotion, Mind and Body, Philosophy

Apocalypse Later

 
So the apocalypse didn’t happen?

It seems, then, that I’ve now got a bit more time to continue on with my hobby: drafting my epitaph.

Going to be a really hard go at it, beating this.

Keep on Truckin’

It keeps me busy.  And it’s F-R-E-E!

Here, so far, are the contenders:
 

  1. “Enough Already.”
  2. “This is Absolutely Not Me at My Best.”
  3. “LOLZ!”
  4. “Excuse Me. For Living.”
  5. “Poopsicle = Poo Popsicle.”
  6. “Probably.”
  7. NO ROBERT FROST
  8. “I’m NOT a Feminist. But…”
  9. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait!”
  10. “Grateful to Have Lived in the Golden Age of Injectable Soft-Tissue Fillers.”
  11. “It’s Not You. It’s Me.”
  12. “Tiger Balm Cures (almost) Everything.”
  13. “I’m Hungry.”
  14. “Chemistry was the worst!! Have a nice summer!”
  15. “Kony 2012.”
  16. “And I Never Got to Ride That Pony.”
  17. “Wish You Were Here.”
  18. “iDied”

 
The final draft, though!

That.

That will be the tricky bit.
 

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Filed under Hobbies, Words

From Beneath Me, They Below

 
I don’t know who my downstairs neighbours are, but every now and then I get clues. Sounds that waft up from beneath, pricking the hairs on the back of my neck, altering me to an otherworldly presence as I go about with my own daily business.

Voices, muffled thumping, the creaking of imaginary furniture.

His cough, her laugh.

Sometimes glimpses of blurry faces passing me in the foyer of the house we share, where the separate entrances of our apartments meet.

That’s how I know my downstairs neighbours.

I think they have a baby, way down, way down, down under there. Or maybe they are periodically torturing a cat, skinning it alive with crooked razor blades at 2:00AM in the morning – an easy joke to make when you dislike hearing the disembodied crying of a baby at 2:00AM in the morning.

Blink and you could miss them

Blink and you could miss them

Who are these people?

I fell asleep the other night to the sounds of the downstairs neighbours having not-so-great sex. It was kind of like being haunted by the laboured moaning of determined, yet defeated spirits.

I feel like the baby should have been crying that night.

But it wasn’t.
 

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Filed under Interruptions, People, Places