Thursday, 31 March 2005


Safest dustbins shed tears faring anode tsar walks yards hiking aimed for this

Shattered gag afar

Hefts anew either tawdry fluidly teeth to take away

Jolly Roger

Cardiff is misty today, not quite umbrella weather. The people at the pelican crossing over the road get darker and more in focus the closer they get, as if they are walking back through time towards me. If I strain my ears, I can hear the melancholy blare of the slow trains leaving the station. They're carrying people even further back through time, and I can see them getting off at Swansea station a thousand years ago, or maybe Aberdare when it was just a primal forest.

There's a tall boy outside on his phone, I wonder if the signal can get through all that mist? It must be able to, he's still talking. Is he directing the mists, confirming the areas that need to be covered? Is he an accomplice? I doubt it - nobody that tall could be inconspicuous.

The, usually, red brick building looming opposite is dulled to a dark sandy colour - makes me think of stony Aberaeron beach. Apple cores hidden among the pebbles. A jutting arm of the Millennium Stadium suddenly looks like a ship, and now I'm at sea. There are seagull cries overhead anyway, I'm becalmed… but I only have half an hour left. Half an hour before i have to rejoin the other galley slaves at my oar/computer. The black horse could be a black flag, God knows they're pirates.

Pillaging and plundering, just to get fatter and fatter until they can finally own no more.

Meeting agenda

9.30 am in the coffee shop today:

Discuss last meeting minutes
Team briefing
Saw own hand off with boredom
Listen to stomach rumbling
Drift off into own world where pixies and butterflies gracefully swoop
Write song in head
Calculate how many window panes there are in each wall
Fantasise about partner
Pretend to be playing quidditch
Get snapped back to reality
Shake head when asked "any other business"
Go for a fag

Wednesday, 30 March 2005

Simon Vs Andy (Wednesday Haikus)

Mostly Simon

Bananas and plums
Sticky and sweet with sugar
Oranges and pears

Mostly Andy

I have locked the door
With a shotgun in my mouth
Fingering the key

Pink Easter Eggs

I’ve been making forever sunburn. Gripping hands let go, slide, weaken and grab again. Hiss of egg. Not molecule by molecule, I’ve got a pair come undone, and I draw them again. Your breath in mine. Membrane against membrane, under spit. Eyelashes graze my cheek, scar, I’ve had a busy afternoon. Somehow soaring, hand invisible to the naked eye. It takes such way a chicken does, but constructing touching skins invading, pink on pink. Soft fingertips, scanning soft pink. Your needing lines in myself, inner wall, then coat that with several layers and again. Whisper, and you of minute tweezers, the ends are so tiny they are whisper, and you breathe. Keep breathing, moving closer but firmly touching. Ragged, take weeks to put together the perfect egg and patterns over hissing skin. And everything is pink. Numb, clean, pink. Long time to create the perfect shell. You first have to build the soft I love my work. What upsets me though, is of delicate harder molecules, brighten their pale colour to a nice blue, or flesh pink. The effort and concentration required is enormous, it can be. I hate my work being misunderstood, especially by those who create. I’ve been ridiculed for it, naturally, accused of spending too much time on pointless projects like this one. I don’t care, I break. The one I’m currently working on will no doubt be smashed back when people can’t understand the egg. They think it is invisible, or a castle made out of a thousand molehills baring angry, red knuckles will surely crush my construction into more than a million smithereens. Smash eggs of their own without even realising. Those eggs are always the prettiest, and the hardest to give up. Perhaps then I will give up egg-making, perhaps I will try something less complicated, like love. Smash into molecules by the first red plastic hammer that walks past it. The first white fist.


...has been an absolute washout. It has rained cats and dogs, I've been bombarded with work - petty bastards peddling ridiculousness at hiked prices. Hooray, this is what blogs are really about - ranting.
Let's have a haiku about today:

Learning all the greys
Light and darker shades the same
Today has them all

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