Friday, 27 July 2007
The lesser moon was visible behind the gently smoking chimneys of the industrial park, but the main moon had not yet risen; its slow curve into the sky did not begin for another hour or so. Chlorina kept to the shadows as much as she could, her dark coat blending into the dusty walls and alleyways. Her poor heart thumped itself wildly against her ribs as if trying to escape, though there was nowhere it could go to – she had a fleeting image of it squeezing out and landing on the filthy floor, while she watched powerless as it rolled around in the broken bricks and dirt.
She breathed slowly and ducked into an old shop doorway to light a cigarette, glancing up before she clicked the button of the lighter, no helicopters or cameras watching her. The lighter had been a gift from Deb, for her birthday two days ago. Twenty six years old and still ducking into corners, ‘Rina sighed gently, she was getting too old for this. This was a teenagers’ game, they healed much faster.
Masculine women, Feminine men
Which is the rooster, which is the hen?
It's hard to tell 'em apart today! And, say!
Sister is busy learning to shave,
Brother just loves his permanent wave,
It's hard to tell 'em apart today! Hey, hey!
Girls were girls and boys were boys when I was a tot,
Now we don't know who is who, or even what's what!
Knickers and trousers, baggy and wide,
Nobody knows who's walking inside,
Those masculine women and feminine men!
Thursday, 26 July 2007
Thursday, 19 July 2007
I then spent ALL weekend making softies. I'll post pictures of them soon, but 'til then, here's what I made.
Monsieur Octopus (from the Plush-o-Rama book); a yellow-clawed red monster with a BIG mouth and a tiny monster in his mouth (that he had eaten); some friendly bacteria (complete with kipper ties as flagella), 6 of them with little eyes and nuclei; a little owldog, the bastard offspring of an owl and a scotty dog; and anothe big mouth monster in a lovely denim-coloured gingham and orange claws.
What a busy little sewing bee I have been.
His uneven like he did they’re still years, grey sky’s rolling again. Deeper valleys of raised skin from dusty water and swallowed can’t stop crying.
It’s takes years bad. The grey sky’s rolling yet again, the same ones can reach. Valleys of raised inwards.
The boy had woken drank some dusty water and he did every morning slowly towards me, trying to stop crying.
Today is getting worse; me, get this bad. They are the sun can reach. Unbroken sleep, drank some pills – crawling slowly towards years and lines, the same ones cut and boy had woken up every morning and I ate years to get this again. Lines are being cut deeper than the sun/skin and broken shadow up from his uneven sleep, swallowed the pills – like getting worse; they’re still crawling get in. And I can’t stop crying.
Tuesday, 17 July 2007
Fluffy white, grey dull
Billowing, fluid motion,
Shapes moving in sky.
Gun, shiny silver
Bolts of hardened steel alloy
Solid forged in heat.
Monday, 16 July 2007
They hide a gateway, probably to another world. A world where lines don't exist, or maybe only exist on other peoples' gates to remind them of how to get there, as mine remind me.
A line is worth, if not a thousand words, then at least five hundred.
Friday, 13 July 2007
The kind of weird British that is good and fab, is seaside towns, rock, car boot sales …
And people always seem to get het up about buffets too, like they are the most important thing in the world. "Ooh, we have to get the vol-au-vents out of the fridge. Somebody take the clingfilm off the chicken dippers."
My toy noses arrived from ebay today. No more will I have to embroider (badly) to make little rabbit/bear faces. The safety eyes I bought arrived on Tuesday so I'm all set. my plan is to go charity shopping tomorrow for an old bobbly fleece and some garish, nasty ties - then start making some more softies.
I'm all inspired by the awesome book I bought: Plush-O-Rama. It's bloody great.
I got my first softie commission yesterday, a lovely lady in work called Carol asked me to make a weird softie for her daughter for Christmas. If I make a selection and bring them in, maybe I can flog 'em here too! I'm so mercenary, heh heh.
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Spun sugar clouds rotate across the icing sky.
A rain of frogs hollops along the wet road,
Dipping flapping legs and clingy toes into puddles.
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
Little Katie played with the chemistry set more than any of her other lovely toys, and she soon learned to make the most hideously complex chemical compounds. She learned to make Lithium Dioxide, Tartra-hydroxy Methalinus and even the fabled Bisto Gravy molecule – in short: she was a wiz!
The days passed and Katie’s Mammy and Daddy were worried that their little daughter was spending so much time alone in her bedroom, where every day a new cloud of brightly coloured gas was puffing away, or a new smell was pumping down the stairs and into the living room.
After a whole week, Katie burst into the living room brandishing a lump of funny looking grey goo in her hand.
“What’s that, poppet?” asked her Mum, looking perplexed,
“It’s a Warbly Blap!” exclaimed Katie excitedly, as the lump of grey goo sat up, shook it’s little gooey head and emitted a tiny squeak!
Well, everyone was VERY impressed with the Warbly Blap, and Katie and the Blap soon became firm friends for life.