I have been successfully accepted into the Mirror Project. It has taken years of effort and I think you'll agree it is worth it. I actually think that my submissions are quite average, and others deserve more attention. You, as my worshipping readers and lovers of Ginger Hair may disagree and I love you for it.
Today the official temperature is *FREEZING!!!* **
I awoke at 6am to get writing underway and unable to find my Salzburg beanie
was forced to wear many layers and drink hot tea. I considered pouring it
upon my head and realised the follow of my ways.
My tactics for warmth DO include; * Rubbing my hands together.
* Thinking about putting the heater on.
* Trying to find where the draft is coming from.
My tactics DO NOT include; * Actually putting the heater on.
* Finding my beanie.
* Getting up from my chair to find out wheere the draft is coming from.
I just can't work out what is going wrong.
It could be darker than black, Cause it moves, Cause it feels, You can never look it in the eye, Though you want to, Though it wants you to, It comes from behind and left, Without sound, Without reply, Searing burning razor, Leaving scars, Leaving grey dreams, Wake up sudden with sweat, No sleep, No more light.
I was just at the Sydney Writers Festival, seeing how cultured and stuff I am now, and I was at a talk by Ruth Wajnryb on her book Language Most Foul. The room was full of old bitties (or biddies) with grey hair and many spectacles.
Ruth started off by reading a letter about a lady who had trouble with the C word. And off we went for 45 minutes of swearing. I just loved it. Although I felt that if I got up and said that was a damn fine talk, that 65 or more old ladies would hit me over the head with their umbrellas and call me a "Rude young man!".
She said there are the dirty dozen - 12 main swear words made up mainly of body parts, body excretions and religious statements. Can you think of what they are? Please add them in the comments only if you can do so in a subtle way.
I also saw Mark Billingham who writes crime novels, he was a classic and is doing a semi-stand up routine this Saturday (tomorrow May 28) at 11pm down at Walsh Bay, on the other side of the bridge to the rocks (not nth sydney) at Sydney Dance Company.
This is for all my friends who need to understand part of what makes me tick. And I mean tick as a metaphor for makes me go, not tick like the noise a clock makes. And I don't mean go as in to move from one place to another, I mean go as in to do stuff. And I don't mean stuff as a broad term meaning anything, actually that is exactly what I mean. Sorry. Strike that. If only there was a way to move the letters I type back and retype new ones.
One day. One day.....
While we are on the subject, I bought myself two (2) new pairs of underpants yesterday and I must say that whilst they are performing OK, I had higher expectations when I purchased them from a reputable retail store. They are certainly functional, with three holes, one for each leg and one for my torso. Perhaps I should not judge so hasty and wait until they are worn a couple of times. OK. I'll wait. But if they don't work out, I'm just marching straight back to Coles and asking for a refund.
It's important to be careful these days. This photo was (not) taken in downtown Paramatta. Mrs McGinty's identity is still not known. Police are still trying to work out how the brick landed on her head, making inquiries in the neighbouring brick throwing yard. Some locals have suggested that the incident may have been self inflicted. Others point to Mrs McGinty's love of wall tapestries.