Monday, 28 March 2011

Funny how

New song.

Handsome boy

Kevin was a sensation in the world of juvenile modeling. To his poses in toy catalogues and generic brand clothing advertisements he brought a roguish charm and, when he was really on, an aura of existentialist despair. Camus with a Chupachup. Women wanted to mother him; men wanted to be him so they could be mothered by their women. Grandmothers carried in their handbags pictures of Kevin clipped from Target and Toys R Us catalogues. They gathered on rainy afternoons to compare their collections over canasta and tea. This profoundly creepy phenomenon had the whole country gripped. No wonder the government had Kevin rubbed out.

Friday, 25 March 2011


There used to be a beauty shop up the road called A Touch of Glass. At least, that's what I thought it was called, but Mum said, "Now Jeffrey, don't be a silly billy. It's A Touch of Class. The C looks like a G because the sign is written all fancy-like." We shared a laugh at my simple error. A week later Mum went to get a facial and came home with her nose cut off, an eyed gouged out and her cheeks slashed open. "You were right," she said.

Dad cooked dinner that night.

The amazing spider-trees

Heavy flooding in Pakistan's Sindh province has caused millions of spiders to nest in the area's trees. New Scientist says that locals hope that the spiders' temporary living arrangement will result in a decrease in malaria, as disease-spreading mosquitoes are caught in the giant webs.

"Yeah," said a local man (pictured). "It's great. Less malaria. Fantastic. The only thing is, ALL OUR FUCKING TREES ARE FULL OF FUCKING SPIDERS. And eventually the trees will die and fall over and then where will the spiders go? It had better not be my house, let me tell you."

Visitors to Sindh province are advised to pass quickly through and pretend like they haven't noticed anything weird going on.

Emerge this

I dislike the term "emerging writer". I know it's used in a technical sense for the purposes of grant applications - an emerging writer is one who has published x number of stories, or kissed y number of bumholes - but its use as a general descriptor is nauseating. "As an emerging writer..." people say, like that means something other than "As a writer nobody has heard of...". I have nothing against writers nobody has heard of - I am a writer nobody has heard of - but giving the condition a fancy name does nothing to elevate it. Also, it sounds like you're a bug or something, emerging from a chrysalis. I don't want to imagine you as a bug or something emerging from a chrysalis. You're probably covered in sticky chrysalis-muck and smell like the inside of a chrysalis. If you weren't so high up on that branch I'd probably step on you. As we all know, crushing an emerging writer beneath one's boot is the sincerest form of flattery.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

The office

I started a new job last week. It's in an office in the city, next to a strip club and across the road from another strip club. My office provides administrative support and instant coffee-making facilities for the strip clubs. (Not really. We don't have a kettle.)

Having worked in retail since I was purchased by Franklins Big Fresh in 1994, adjusting to working in an office has been interesting. One thing about retail is that you have a lot of contact with the general public, which has its obvious drawbacks, but does give you something to talk about and club together over. Although in my office we are constantly on the phone to various people, it's not quite the same, and in some ways I miss the random human contact retail provides. But then I think about all the things I hated about retail - including the random human contact - and that feeling soon fades.

So, the new job is not too bad, as jobs go. Different. Challenging. Next to a strip club. I'm sure I'll come to loathe it in time, but for now it's too new and scary to inspire anything as comfortable as loathing.

Friday, 4 March 2011

I will follow me

For the time being at least I'll be posting over here.

UPDATE: You know what? Tumblr is shit.