Today, a smiling stranger helped me find a car park. It was all narrow alleys and bright trees. I ate long noodles and watched the sun, reminisced about people who hung out of windows muttering to themselves, watched sportsmen declare love for orange peanuts and wished I had hair long enough to swing from.
~What colour eyes are the most hypnotic?
Apart from crazy eyeballs and the odd burst of Disney song that gets stuck in my head, I have a habit of stepping on pink starfish sponges and falling into cake.
"Cake? Really?" they all say, rather surprised.
"Of course," I reply, in a grand gesture of reassurance, "What else is there?"
They all nod, of course, for it makes perfect sense.
"She really is onto something," one would say to the other, "Is cake not the softest?"
"Totally right, she is," the other would say to one, "if it's not the softest, I shall eat my right boot!"
"Not your left?" one would enquire, intrigued and slightly suspicious.
The other would laugh, "Oh, no, you see! I was wrong once before!"
And sure enough, they'll all look down and see first-hand just how hazardous a wrong proclamation can be.
~for the first time in forever...
Friday 21 March 2014
Tuesday 18 March 2014
Would you brush your teeth with bubblegum?
"THERE'S NOTHING HERE!" she shouted. Then she plonked herself down ungracefully on the wooden floor, amongst stacks of books and odd trinkets, and she stared blandly at the circular walls.
"Yes there is," she heard a voice say quietly behind her.
"You're wrong. You will always be wrong, forever, because you are wrong."
She heard him move about but didn't look, not even when he came right up close and sat beside her.
"I cannot be wrong if I am right," he said, and she almost believed him.
"Did you know there used to be a stool in here? And a really big bowl that I had to eat out of, and a really big oversized spoon. I didn't know spoons could be that big. Did you know that about spoons?"
"Cerri-" he began, but she interrupted him.
"Did you know about spoon sizes when you were my age?" she turned to him and waited. His dark hair fell around his eyes as he stared at the floor, and for one quick second she imagined dropping handfuls of that hair into the really big bowl and eating it. Then she shook her head.
"You're not that old," he replied.
Cerri was, indeed, that old. She was almost nineteen, which was old, far too old for her to be thinking about spoons and stools.
"Jasper," she whispered, "can you tell me the time? Tell me it's twelve o'clock."
She knew that he was looking at her. "It's twelve o'clock," he said softly because he knew.
Wishing that she was clever and sane, Cerri leaned over and kissed him slowly on the mouth.
+
If time went sideways, Cerri imagined she would be ok. But time went forwards, always in a straight line and always on time. Never a second out of place.
When Jasper came back the next day, she gave him the book with a picture of a red horse on the cover and he smiled.
"I don't think I've ever received such a wonderful present."
Cerri tried to hide her pride, "One day you can ride on a red horse."
"They don't exist, Cerri."
"Yes," she nodded forcefully, so forcefully that her light brown hair fell in her face and made him laugh, "they do. There's a picture on the book."
Jasper looked down at the horse and said, "Not all books are real."
"Yes, they are."
She felt heat in her hands and she knew there was a reason for this. The warm tingly sensation running along her fingers wasn't supposed to be there and she knew there was a procedure that she was supposed to follow, but she couldn't remember what she had to do.
"Some are," said Jasper, "But horses like these are found only in fantasies."
Cerri didn't see him looking at the book wistfully. She felt her chest tighten and her brain buzz, as if a thousand little bees were swarming around her brain. "THEY'RE REAL!" She yelled.
Jasper looked up, "Cerr-"
"THEY'RE REAL! ALL OF THEM ARE!"
"I'm s-"
"LISTEN!" she threw a book at him. He ducked. She threw another, and another, until her arm ached and Jasper was crouched on the ground with his arms over his head and the book with the red horse still in his hand.
Then Cerri stopped and she couldn't understand why. She saw Jasper on the ground and the books lying haphazardly around him, their pages squashed and ripped. She felt her heartbeat slow, her brain quieten and her fingers cool.
"Jasper," she said through a sob, trying hard to calm the panic rising up in her stomach, "is it twelve o'clock yet?"
+
It wasn't always twelve o'clock, but Cerri waited for those hours. She liked that they came around twice every day.
The next time Jasper visited he bought a woollen hat. It was yellow and knitted crookedly, as if the maker had bad hands, but he still thought it looked wonderful.
"I don't want it," said Cerri.
"I bought it from the market place," Jasper said brightly as he held it out, "I thought of you when I saw it."
Cerri snatched the hat and strode over to the window that had bars on the outside.
"Wh-"
"I don't want it," and she slid open the small, square window pane and stuffed the hat through the rusting bars. She watched it fall out of sight. Then she turned to Jasper and pointed back out of the window to a bush of purple flowers, "I want one of them."
Jasper said, "Ok," in a tired voice, "I'll get one for you."
But Cerri said, "I want to go out and pick one myself," and she knew he wouldn't know what to say. She waited. He walked right up to her and she watched him warily, gasping when he put his arms around her and said quietly into her neck, "You can't go out."
She stared at the big iron locks on the door. Something felt wrong. "It's not time," she whispered, and the panic feeling was spreading again like a bad rumour. "Jasper," she said a bit louder and heard a sob.
+
Cerri sat on her pile of murder-mystery books.
"Have you ever seen a family of ducks wearing top hats?" she asked Jasper when he came in and closed the door behind him.
"Yes I have."
Cerri raised an eyebrow, "You haven't."
"I saw them yesterday," Jasper said with a smirk, "at the pond." He sat next to her on a pile of old romance novels and held out a flower. It was big and leafy and purple.
Cerri gazed at it. She had a funny feeling, as if she was supposed to remember something but she couldn't.
"It's pretty," she said in a distracted way and turned, almost automatically, to look at the window.
Jasper tucked it behind her ear, and even though he was quick and careful, she caught a glimpse of two long red cuts running down his hand before he tucked it up into his jumper sleeve.
"Jasper," she said, "is it twelve o'clock yet?"
+
I may or may not have watched Tangled yesterday.. ^_^
"Yes there is," she heard a voice say quietly behind her.
"You're wrong. You will always be wrong, forever, because you are wrong."
She heard him move about but didn't look, not even when he came right up close and sat beside her.
"I cannot be wrong if I am right," he said, and she almost believed him.
"Did you know there used to be a stool in here? And a really big bowl that I had to eat out of, and a really big oversized spoon. I didn't know spoons could be that big. Did you know that about spoons?"
"Cerri-" he began, but she interrupted him.
"Did you know about spoon sizes when you were my age?" she turned to him and waited. His dark hair fell around his eyes as he stared at the floor, and for one quick second she imagined dropping handfuls of that hair into the really big bowl and eating it. Then she shook her head.
"You're not that old," he replied.
Cerri was, indeed, that old. She was almost nineteen, which was old, far too old for her to be thinking about spoons and stools.
"Jasper," she whispered, "can you tell me the time? Tell me it's twelve o'clock."
She knew that he was looking at her. "It's twelve o'clock," he said softly because he knew.
Wishing that she was clever and sane, Cerri leaned over and kissed him slowly on the mouth.
+
If time went sideways, Cerri imagined she would be ok. But time went forwards, always in a straight line and always on time. Never a second out of place.
When Jasper came back the next day, she gave him the book with a picture of a red horse on the cover and he smiled.
"I don't think I've ever received such a wonderful present."
Cerri tried to hide her pride, "One day you can ride on a red horse."
"They don't exist, Cerri."
"Yes," she nodded forcefully, so forcefully that her light brown hair fell in her face and made him laugh, "they do. There's a picture on the book."
Jasper looked down at the horse and said, "Not all books are real."
"Yes, they are."
She felt heat in her hands and she knew there was a reason for this. The warm tingly sensation running along her fingers wasn't supposed to be there and she knew there was a procedure that she was supposed to follow, but she couldn't remember what she had to do.
"Some are," said Jasper, "But horses like these are found only in fantasies."
Cerri didn't see him looking at the book wistfully. She felt her chest tighten and her brain buzz, as if a thousand little bees were swarming around her brain. "THEY'RE REAL!" She yelled.
Jasper looked up, "Cerr-"
"THEY'RE REAL! ALL OF THEM ARE!"
"I'm s-"
"LISTEN!" she threw a book at him. He ducked. She threw another, and another, until her arm ached and Jasper was crouched on the ground with his arms over his head and the book with the red horse still in his hand.
Then Cerri stopped and she couldn't understand why. She saw Jasper on the ground and the books lying haphazardly around him, their pages squashed and ripped. She felt her heartbeat slow, her brain quieten and her fingers cool.
"Jasper," she said through a sob, trying hard to calm the panic rising up in her stomach, "is it twelve o'clock yet?"
+
It wasn't always twelve o'clock, but Cerri waited for those hours. She liked that they came around twice every day.
The next time Jasper visited he bought a woollen hat. It was yellow and knitted crookedly, as if the maker had bad hands, but he still thought it looked wonderful.
"I don't want it," said Cerri.
"I bought it from the market place," Jasper said brightly as he held it out, "I thought of you when I saw it."
Cerri snatched the hat and strode over to the window that had bars on the outside.
"Wh-"
"I don't want it," and she slid open the small, square window pane and stuffed the hat through the rusting bars. She watched it fall out of sight. Then she turned to Jasper and pointed back out of the window to a bush of purple flowers, "I want one of them."
Jasper said, "Ok," in a tired voice, "I'll get one for you."
But Cerri said, "I want to go out and pick one myself," and she knew he wouldn't know what to say. She waited. He walked right up to her and she watched him warily, gasping when he put his arms around her and said quietly into her neck, "You can't go out."
She stared at the big iron locks on the door. Something felt wrong. "It's not time," she whispered, and the panic feeling was spreading again like a bad rumour. "Jasper," she said a bit louder and heard a sob.
+
Cerri sat on her pile of murder-mystery books.
"Have you ever seen a family of ducks wearing top hats?" she asked Jasper when he came in and closed the door behind him.
"Yes I have."
Cerri raised an eyebrow, "You haven't."
"I saw them yesterday," Jasper said with a smirk, "at the pond." He sat next to her on a pile of old romance novels and held out a flower. It was big and leafy and purple.
Cerri gazed at it. She had a funny feeling, as if she was supposed to remember something but she couldn't.
"It's pretty," she said in a distracted way and turned, almost automatically, to look at the window.
Jasper tucked it behind her ear, and even though he was quick and careful, she caught a glimpse of two long red cuts running down his hand before he tucked it up into his jumper sleeve.
"Jasper," she said, "is it twelve o'clock yet?"
+
I may or may not have watched Tangled yesterday.. ^_^
Wednesday 12 March 2014
Where do you want to go?
If 'blegh' had a colour it would be red with a little golden wand and maybe a crown made out of paper- you know, those flimsy orange or yellow ones that always rip or fall off into your food.
Yes, that is what would be happening.
I am now obsessed with this TV show called Helix for some unknown reason. It's dark, serious, full of zombies and lab work based around the T-virus. It's delicious. I've been patiently waiting for more blood and gory scenes filled with people eating other people, but then I remind myself that this is a TV show, Cerri, a TV show, not a movie, and I must say, good zombie movies are hard to find.
So The Walking Dead sort of took a side trip to Albania while I latched onto this one.
;_; ~I will continue watching it. I will. (Said this girl who did everything else ever to avoid watching it, even taking up parasailing and candle-making , and died without knowing what the hell everyone was so crazy about).
I vote for words with N.
My guitars shout at me whenever I try to play them. I find this abusive yet sensible as I can't play very well but really believe they should tune themselves. Sometimes, really believing just doesn't work.
In the midst of 'nuclear families' and mountains of different-shaped bags and swearing guitars and food that shouldn't be coconut flavoured and bursting light-bulbs and teapots with one eye and heels that change how your toes look, life happened.
>_<
Yes, that is what would be happening.
I am now obsessed with this TV show called Helix for some unknown reason. It's dark, serious, full of zombies and lab work based around the T-virus. It's delicious. I've been patiently waiting for more blood and gory scenes filled with people eating other people, but then I remind myself that this is a TV show, Cerri, a TV show, not a movie, and I must say, good zombie movies are hard to find.
So The Walking Dead sort of took a side trip to Albania while I latched onto this one.
;_; ~I will continue watching it. I will. (Said this girl who did everything else ever to avoid watching it, even taking up parasailing and candle-making , and died without knowing what the hell everyone was so crazy about).
I vote for words with N.
My guitars shout at me whenever I try to play them. I find this abusive yet sensible as I can't play very well but really believe they should tune themselves. Sometimes, really believing just doesn't work.
In the midst of 'nuclear families' and mountains of different-shaped bags and swearing guitars and food that shouldn't be coconut flavoured and bursting light-bulbs and teapots with one eye and heels that change how your toes look, life happened.
>_<
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