How many times is too many?

"I understand," I said, because I, too, have a child and know how unforgiving the world could be. So I listened, nodded, agreed, and sympathised while Laura poured out eighteen months of woe all around my living room floor. When she had finished, her arm still resting over her eyes, I said: "Laura, this has been a hideous ordeal for you. Now, before we hash it out- as one says- I have a song and we shall dance."

She shifted her arm slightly, frowning, but I pretended not to notice. Of course, after unloading an entire ocean-full of emotion in three hours, the last thing anyone would feel like doing is physical exercise. But that is precisely why it should be done.

I press play. "IT'S BOLD JAMIE," I yell over the music. "BY CARA DILLON, YOU'VE SEEN THAT SHOW RIGHT?"

And then we danced.

I write her a letter, just a few short lines, and suffer death ten thousand times

Would you like cream and sugar?

Laura came to me and said, 

"I feel like every day another layer is falling off. I'm lonely. I had a baby. I didn't realise how angry I was until I couldn't escape. I'm smothered. I haven't been at work in a week and it's not a holiday. I have plastic bandaids instead of the ones that actually stick. I can't type properly on my laptop keyboard. People listen but no one offers to help in the way I need. Every day I step in a wet patch. I'm never hydrated. I thought I'd be happier. Cooking takes too long and all the really good foods are either wet or hard to assemble."

She said,

"I lie in bed and think about death because it's coming and everything is pointless. The soil is too dry. I have too much time but not in a practical way. I fantasised about shopping at the high end grocery store, but when I got there I was just disappointed about the expensive in-your-face marketing. I wanted to talk about how I'm feeling and find ways to work with my emotions and my thinking so that I can be a better person to my baby and my partner and my family and the public in general and be kinder to myself because I didn't get some of the support services I needed and for a while I was a literal monster who no one wanted to help, not even my closest friend, but now that I'm here can I just cry myself to sleep?"

...you say the ocean's rising like I give a shit

                          you say the whole world's ending, honey, it already did...

Can you spell your surname?

FIRSTLY
We have an infestation of mice.
Hello, it has been a while.
And in that while we have gathered mice.
IT IS SAFE TO SAY that I am appalled and therefore spend most of my days cleaning, setting traps, and chatting on the local hotline about the ridiculous prices of stripey socks.

SECONDLY
For some reason, neighbourhood cats have taken to raiding our rubbish bin. We think they're either a loved up couple rummaging for food while out on dates, or two best buddies living their best life.

THIRDLY
Every day there is a pair of pigeons that sit atop our back fence, huddled together in a very intimate way. One time they were sitting very far apart as if cooling off after an argument. I was dismayed. Birds live such short lives that any arguing should be put aside upon immediate realisation, TO LEAVE ROOM FOR MORE CANOODLING GUYS. YOU MUST KEEP THE SPARK.
However, as I watched, they both edged closer together in a very awkward and aloof way until they settled right next to each other again. Neither of them acknowledged the other for the longest time, just kept fluffing their feathers or looking around. I realised I was on the edge of my couch seat. The ice in my tea had melted. My stomach grumbled.. had I really not eaten for three hours?
Finally, after the sixth dose of eye drop solution to keep my eyeballs from drying out in their sockets, the two pigeons pecked beaks and huddled up again, and I could get up to empty my pee bucket.

This is literally not the biggest news in my life right now, but it certainly takes up the most time.

Other things include:
~ Reaching for the tissues at the same times as my pet dragon
~ Burning the tips of my fingers a little for a few consecutive days (unrelated)
~ Driving and braking a little later than I would have normally
~ Trying really hard multiple times to adjust the work chair to a lower setting, only to have it rise higher and higher each time
~ Admiring a pinkish-red top at a store, thinking seriously about buying it, then noticing I was in the 'teenage girls' section
~ Ordering a coffee and the girl putting marshmallows on top so they melt and somehow make the coffee go from --ordinary marshmallows-- to *MARSHMALLOWS WHAT THE FREAKIN WHAT* Was there even coffee in there? I cannot say. But I can say that I transformed that day, into a massive animated love heart, and it was a severe shock to wake up the day after and see my normal human reflection
~ A hard craving for donuts, and a lesser craving for strawberry milk
~ Going down to the pier to throw some shells back into the sea and being told by a grumpy old man that 'it ain't wise because the merpeople are coming'
~ Selling a bucket of shells to an elderly man with a knee-length beard and only two teeth (related)
~Taking blood from a woman and ONCE AGAIN having to say 'I'm sorry but our company cannot test your blood, one- because it is purple, and two- you are clearly not human. Please go to a pathology clinic that deals with your people'


... I see the angels, and lead them to your door... 

What if I stay this way forever?

Ariel put her teacup down as she thought about things.
Yes, she could see where Hazel was coming from. But on the other hand, her eyes had been too blue recently, with no promise of letting up any time soon.
She cleared her throat. "I had wondered..." she ventured while gazing up at the moon, "when you would return."
Hazel finished taking a sip from her own teacup and frowned slightly at Ariel's tail. It had been silver and shiny a few weeks ago- so shiny in fact that the last time Hazel had come to visit she was forced to wear sunglasses, at midnight, which resulted in an awkward reveal of her new eye-shadow- but now it looked dull, like old silver spoons used too many times without proper cleaning. She squinted. Was that a bruise?
"Hazel!" Ariel snapped her fingers and flicked her head back, forgetting that her long red hair was now short, thick, and unable to swish sexily over her shoulder. She paused for a second, then sighed.
"I'm thinking," Hazel said, and took another sip to bide time.
"How long does it bloody take? We haven't seen you in forever, you never come to visit like you said you would. Dad is giving himself a hernia trying to come up with new ideas to tempt you back down. I mean, what is it all for?"
It was! Right near the end, a small, dark green discolouration, barely a lump and hardly noticeable unless you were practiced in the art of 'avoiding eye contact'.
"I mean it!" Ariel said loudly, and it came out harsher than she had intended. "You do know we're not supposed to live up here? We have lives... down there..."
Well this was going grand! First Hazel disappears into some unnatural land where people have legs and eat meat on a stick. Then she drags Ariel up as well, claiming that life was better with electricity and dry hair. The horror! The audacity! And now she comes here, eyes blue as those sciaenochromis fryeri weirdos that hang out under the coral fountain, claiming that she won't ever return because she met some foxes in the woods and they built her a tree-house.
"It's not really about me," Hazel said vaguely, knowing full well it was. "It's about the changing tides an-"
"Oh don't be all philosophical on me! That's bullcrap!"
"Come on Ariel, how can I possibly walk into the ocean when the tide is going out? It's impossible! Time consuming! Not to mention painful! Shells aren't soft up here."
"What nonsense!" Ariel laughed once. The idea that shells could be anything but soft was too hilarious to fathom, and it made Ariel nervous. "You stay up here because of the weird creatures and that boy, we can all see it. We watch you from puddles and dew drops-"
"I stay up here for the profiteroles," Hazel said so solemnly and with such intense, that the tide of pure resentment and anger and possibly even hatred and most likely deep admiration that had been swirling around Ariel for the last four days, threatening to spill out in a wash of tragedy, stopped instantly, leaving her still, and quiet, and almost hollow.
"Marlo is nice, too," Hazel mused. "I like feeling his heart between my fingers. It's very wet," she added, to which Ariel nodded wholeheartedly.
"I miss the feel of hearts," Ariel looked back up at the moon, as if she had once held its heart in her cold, pale hand.
Hazel smiled despite the shocking taste of yet another sip of tea. "When you're dry and warm it feels even better." Her eyes fell on Ariel's tail once more as she swished it lazily through the water. The bruise winked wickedly up at her and she tried to remember who Ariel had mentioned the previous time they met. She took a sip.
"I tried it with Drew the other night-"
"Ariel..." Hazel said suddenly, too distraught to even continue her own thought process. "You simply must stop making tea when I come to visit. It's atrocious!"


~ there's no time to waste on giving up

Or is it?

Well, yes.
Much like Herman, Tenstal was also experiencing fits of unnecessary rage.
"It says I must click on personalise," Tenstal said slowly, his left eye twitching and a thin line of drool falling silently and unnoticed from the corner of his mouth.
"Huh?" Herman jerked the tea pot as he stepped backwards out of reflex. Everything he did these days seemed to be out of reflex and it incensed him to no end.
"I must find personalise, and then... what was it?" Tenstal ducked his head over to the mound of papers all piled haphazardly on a filing cabinet next to his desk. "Was it sonify?"
Herman said: "My cousin tried to make a love robot a number of years ago-"
"Program!" Tenstal called out happily, causing Herman to jerk his teapot upwards, hitting the low wooden ceiling beam.
"OWWWWWW!"
Hot tea splashed all over his leather-clad foot. "GOD DAMMIT! IT DIDN'T WORK, DID IT? THE BLOODY ROBOT SHORT-CIRCUITED MIDWAY AND NOW ITS BOTTOM IS BEING USED AS A FLOWERBED!"
"Personalise... then program..." Tenstal clicked. "Oh, Herman, are you making tea?"
"I BLOODY WELL AM NOT!"
However, Herman considered his options. He was, after all, holding a half-filled tea pot with boiling water inside, and he did enjoy handing out goodwill in the form of food and beverage. The only thing stopping him was a vision.
Yes, that vision.
It had happened four days prior to this ill-fated-foot-event, and it had involved a woman. Such a thin, ghostly form this woman had taken, that Herman spent a whole twenty minutes conversing with her about the horse stables down the track before realising that she was, indeed, alive, and therefore uninterested in a permanent place to set up her flourishing haunting business.
Tricked, I was, he thought bitterly as he spooned in heaped helpings of herbs. Played for my handsome features. Why! Surely a moment gazing at my face is worth more than a whole teacup of gold and silver, together!
Her name was Avery and she had come from the 'Peyying Gates', whatever that meant. Herman had no idea. One minute he had been sweeping the porch in a somewhat serene stupor (as it was baking day at Tenstals house and Tenstal always produced bewitched goods), and then the next, he had felt a light tap on his shoulder that made him squeal like a girl and topple into his swept-up pile of leaves.
"Why does everyone show such femininity when I present myself?" Avery had asked in a whisper.
Herman had scrambled up, spluttering on a taste of sharp pine, burnt wood, and a waxy syrup, and laid eyes upon the thinnest, palest, softest woman with the widest eyes and thinnest, longest, whitest hair he had ever seen.
"Excuse you!" he had rasped by accident.
Avery stared.
"I- I-" he tried to grasp a hold of what little dignity he had left, but it laughed at him from afar and sped off into the night, leaving Herman to display his wrinkled vulnerability instead.
"I'm looking for a young ma-"
"Oh! I don't think so!" Herman cut off shrilly. "I'm afraid no one lives here! At all! This is just an old house that needs a sweep from time to time..." he could feel his chest tighten.
Avery stood very still, like a photo. Only her pale hair moved, slowly, gently, in the lazy evening breeze. Her eyes searched over Hermans face with minimal interest.
"And I'm- they asked me, the councilman that is, asked me to sweep, and, so, they know where I am! I am on a register!" Herman's voice ascended higher and higher, until he was terrified it would disappear into the astral plane of no return. Trying to gain control of any part of this situation, he gave a quick cough to loosen his throat. "I have many friends!"
Avery tilted her head ever so slightly. "Do you?"
"Oh yes! A very lot of them!"
"I used to have a-"
"But they're down at the pond!" Herman cried, as shrill as ever. "So I should think they will return brisk and with all haste!"
Suddenly, Avery smiled a small, tight smile. It looked overused and easily accessible, as if she had spent a lot of time showing it off but virtually no time caring for it or allowing it to grow. This observation calmed Herman deep into his trembling core.
"I'm looking for something," she said while staring off vaguely at something over his shoulder.
He stepped forward. "Yes! You must be. And I know just the place."
And I very well did! He thought savagely to himself as he stirred the star-painted teacup furiously. How could I be helped? Not knowing she had never haunted anything in her entire life, because she was HUMAN?!
"BUT WHAT DOES 'OPEN FILE' MEAN?!" came Tenstal's yell of frustration.
"TOOTIN RIGHT!" Herman yelled back. "THE WORLD IS BLOODY MAD!"

Meet back here in an hour?

Time has crept along around me, like a shout carried by rough winds that take a while to reach the recipient.
I have been like Avery and Quintus both.. soft and slow like Avery, yet rushing and continuously panicked like Quintus.
It is tiring!
But I have been making progress. And isn't that what Avery is all about? She tries her hardest to accommodate- or maybe she doesn't try hard at all and just merely attends to the needs of others in a wistful way while coming across as accommodating since no one else bothers to try- and when times get tough, she climbs the mountain to meet them.
Quintus on the other hand is sort of soft and slow even though he gives off great energy. He wouldn't dream of climbing any mountain, let alone face his challenges or stare a foe in the face.
I don't blame him, to be honest, but I feel a little let down by him sometimes. I believed he had an amazing story to tell, but all he did was fall in love. But I mustn't dwell in this fictional land that sounds actually quite awesome and I kind of want to live there also.. I must fly free! Catch a cloud! Whip up some Positive Batter and fling it down at random people much like that monkey in that show.

A lot of my time has gone into watching tv and staring at my phone. Yes, I have a new job where I collect blood, work in hospitals, and somehow, even after carefully constructing my schedules, wake up even earlier than I ever did before. That's right! Starting work at 6am, much like my previous job, in an area CLOSER TO MY HOUSE, unlike my previous job, now requires me to wake up at the ungodly hour of 4.30am. I feel like most of the reason is due to parking, and the unreasonable '2 hour TICKET parking from 9-5' signs that I must deal with on a daily basis.

I have signed up at a gym! And I have gone! About six times! AAHAHAHA good times. But for real, it is good times, because the after-workout-buzz that hits the next day is phenomenal. It's also bad times because most of the time I can't be bothered going.

^__$


My days consist of blood, needles, forms, arms, and the occasional spelling mistake. They also consist of birds lured in by the way of purchased birdseed, ever-growing number of plants, street signs, cafe-style coffee, pants the size of a tent, and the odd chest pain/light arm/emergency ECG.
All the swell, all the time.

~ Adios


But there's a scream inside that we all try to hide..

If bees sting humans, who stings bees?

The Story Of Today ~ Part 1.

JUST KIDDING!!

There could never be a part 2 because I would have packed my bags and flown to Canada in protest, spite, and mild appreciation of their advertised love of all things Maple.

But also:

Yes.

So today marked the first day that I have ever had the utmost displeasure (107/10 would not verbally recount) of smelling something so foul, so putrid, so vomit-inducing that I was momentarily struck down by a fit of syncope.

For those who don't know, syncope is a cool new word that means faint or fainting. I was struck a-faint. 

As it was, I have not yet been able to tell this tale out-loud, for fear of inhaling the scent again upon speaking the very words of the thing I dare not mention!

It's a time.

SO, I woke up positively alurching into action- basically one minute I was asleep and the next I was upright and reaching for the kettle.

I turned on the kettle and remembered that the bins had to be put out today, actually, at this very minute, christ! And bae had gone!

I leapt to action, immediately spinning away from the kitchen appliances in all their crumbly and glowy-light glory, and power-walked out to the front of the house, slipped on shoes, flung open the door, and was greeted by a pleasant sunny morning with only a hint of cool air from the night before.

Now, my car is always in the way of the bin location. It is a sad state of affairs, but one that must continue until the day I retire from this place, or just retire in general and have some nice attractive young chap in nothing but low hanging jeans pull the bin to it's spot for me while I sip on champagne and eat cocktail sausages from my reclining deck chair that resides right outside the front window. 

Watching, but also critiquing, in the nicest way possible.

I managed to haul the regular bin to the spot, went back for the green bin, that we all know- even if I have never made it public- has issues. 

The first issue was that it didn't have a lid. So we got one. Then a gigantic spider decided to LIVE ON IT. Anyway, I tried to push it but remembered that, yes, this bin was actually full to the brim.

TO THE BRIM PEOPLE.

With what I assumed was dry, dead, grass and some of my plants that had grown beautifully until one day I realised in a spasm of horror that they all looked like their leaves were legs and I threw them in the bin, alive, to be rid of this abomination.

I thought, hey! I'm an ambitious young go-getter! Today will be the day I finally tip half of the contents out, out the bin out, then reload the stuff in preparation for next bin day, and be an absolute winner.

So I tried to push it over, but it would not push. Mark my words, this bin was trouble. I tried again, and again, and huffing and heaving and ACUTELY aware that I still had not had my morning coffee yet, I pushed the bin over, only to find...

WATER.

WATER AND THE RANKEST REEK THAT EVER WAFTED THROUGH THE AIR INTO UNSUSPECTING HUMAN NOSES.

UTTER STENCH.

The bin was filled to the top with grass and plants, and, SOMEHOW, water had gotten in and everything was a greenish, brownish, sludge that only ever deserves to live in the deep underground instead of innocent human rubbish bins.

We're not sure if the friendly gutter cleaner who mowed our damp grass last week had dumped the damp grass into the bin, or if the rain has somehow gotten inside due to a small leak, but whatever the reason, there was a shit tonne of water inside and it had been there long enough to ferment.

I ran back inside to get the outside broom, pulled on a coat, ran back out and started trying to scrape the sludge out with the end of the broom. This meant my face was almost in direct contact with the sludge. I scraped four times. Then I stood up, experienced the pre-syncope feelings of a light almost cold body, partial vision-loss, sway, and a mild draining of conscious. I staggered inside, fell in the hallway, and turned onto my back and thought 'did I almost faint from the smell?'

From smell?

and:

Can this be used a weapon??

This experience had awoken something in me. As I lay there festering in my growing hatred for this wet grass, I thought of marketing strategies and the price and safety requirements of glass bottles. I heard the bin truck pull up. I thought vaguely about getting up to move my car, but did not move for fear of fainting on top of the sludge.

The feeling slowly dissolved into a hunger for breakfast. So I called my mother, staggered up and made my way slowly to the kitchen where I turned the kettle on again. Sat down. Took a sip of coffee and in that INSTANT, I realised with great clarity.. this coffee tasted like the stench of wet sludge.

 o       o

  \___/

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(; __  ;)