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Thu Apr 01 2004 at 19:50:46
until his vocal chords felt ragged and torn. He couldn't take this any more. Painfully and slowly, he started to
at the completely, utterly, totally
that stared back at him. He needed inspiration, but his mind was full of clutter. Irrelevant memories, pointless trails of thought, but a total vacuum of
. He resolved to do something about it.
Tenderly and carefully, he pulled himself together and dragged himself to his door. Somehow he would have to bring himself to face the
world, the city, the people . . . and the sky. He opened the door that protected him from the business of
the rest of the population
and the light flooded in all too suddenly. He screwed his eyes up instinctively and gingerly stepped into the street.
stretched and yawned easily over the cityscape like the
cool, clear, beautiful blanket
that it should be, whilst a couple of clouds just... drifted... by. The city itself seemed energetic and animated as the hurriedness of the people within it gave it life. The great reaching trees in the street waved their limbs in the air. The buildings of the street seemed to be bursting to escape from themselves; they were so mundane and yet so obviously vibrant. The sunlight poured down kindly onto the concrete street and burnt the soles of his feet as they touched the ground.
He started walking sombrely and privately to his eventual destination: the café, where he could
relax and be ignored
for as long as he wanted. Passers by seemed
by his curious, delapidated appearance as he briskly walked past them, anxious to escape from their attention. Eventually he reached his destination and took a seat outside at a cheap white plastic table on a cheap white plastic chair under a cheap striped umbrella, and waited for a waitress to make her way over to him.
"Good afternoon sir. Would you like to order something now?" she asked
"Umm. Do you sell any… herbal teas?" He spoke in a rhythm that was unfamiliar to the waitress, as if he had taken the time to choose every word carefully.
"Oh, yes we do sir. We have lemon, peach, mint, and nettle."
"Yes. Thankyou, I'll have the mint please."
"Certainly, Sir." With that, she left abruptly.
As he waited for her to return, he looked around the café. It wasn't very busy, and he casually examined everyone and everything that he could see, pessemistically hunting for inspiration.
Then someone caught his eye. She was
. She smiled at him, got up, and left silently.
* * *
He painted vigorously, he painted energetically, he painted kinetically.
He painted the sky, that had stretched and yawned easily over the
like the cool, clear, beautiful blanket that it should be, and its couple of clouds that had just drifted by. He painted the city, that had seemed energetic and animated as the hurriedness of the people within it had given it life. He painted the great reaching trees in the street that had waved their limbs in the air. He painted the buildings of the street that seemed to be bursting to escape from themselves; that were so mundane and yet so obviously vibrant. He painted the the concrete street that the sunlight had poured down on so kindly and burnt the soles of his feet as they touched the ground.
But most of all, he painted
I like it!
The difference between poetry and prose
She touched my life for a second and made everything peach-scented
To Her Face
Reading at the Dinner Table
No one takes me seriously as a source of malevolence and spite
The Real Story
I've heard your song
You can become as successful as the most successful person ever
John Anson Ford Amphitheater
The Siren Hos
Canberra bushfires, January 2003
/but what was the question?
What does nuclear fusion smell like?
What to read to a child
Lost Gems of Yesteryear
In the empty mountains
World War II
Cat o' nine tails
A happy girl
Riddles Wisely Expounded
/but what was the question?
Do your wings make a sound? Sometimes I swear I can hear them
"Clockwork" (noun) - The mechanisms by which a clock functions.
January 16, 2018
Naked Came the Stranger
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