Fact I put all but ONE of my towels on the outside line to dry two days ago and have just now realised that I still have not taken them down
Fact The other towel is sitting on the kitchen floor as I used it to dry parts of the floor after mopping
Fact I need a shower tonight, this very minute, and have a growing suspicion that there is only two small square hand towels left to use.
INSERT RADICAL, SEXUAL ANIME OF YOUR CHOICE!!!
Why are all anime 'washing in the bathroom' scenes so squeaky, soapy clean?
Moving on...
Today was a magical day involving vegetarian pizza, pouring a cup of oil all over my engine because YOLO, driving to a bank only to discover that the bank does not exist in this state even though the map said it did, preparing my delightful human form for the coffee bliss that every person in the world should experience at LEAST daily and then un-preparing because TIME WAITS FOR NO MAN YO, coming to terms with the unsocialising hermit crab that I really am, admiring how well I blend in to society with my human disguise, stretching my claws and walking sideways for a brief period of time to reminisce about the olden days while strengthening my leg muscles, giving my food a fun show-ride experience in my car for free, wondering if anyone buys a two-pack of cheesecake with the intention to only actually eat one of them, and, lastly but just as fun, spending a good chunk of my day saying fuck and blowing my nose.
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Something that changed my life today: Organic Peanut Butter.
Yes
This is a thing.
Ok, so I'm not religious or a nut job (eheheheheh) or an extreme health conscious person wanting to spout nonsense in other people's faces but organic peanut butter is the SHIT. The Shit. If shit could walk around and enter health food shops from the back door (oozing in a sliding way, of course), modify itself to lose all it's shittier bits at once and replace those bits with delicious peanuty bits, then slide on over to the shelf holding the 'Natural Selection' of pretty much every food known out there, knock off the peanut butters in some assassinistic way and pour itself into each of their containers, I'm telling you....
It would be an oil fest.
100 per cent perfection- but I just realised that what I'm actually experiencing is a euphoric state brought about by the oil.
Can this be true?
I'm not sure.
SO! I bought some chocolate biscuits earlier on, to use a dipping tool into this TUB OF DELICIOUSNESS, and I plan to do this in the very near future. Possibly while I lay in bed and watch more Clannad, but this could be uncertain given that I have been telling myself for the past month 'Get out of yo bed, go for a run, and do life'.
Cheers, past me, what a blast.
Can I be totally hypnotized by peanut oil? Is this even healthy for me? Will I stop eating organic peanut butter now that I am not mesmerized by its seductive mysterious nature? Who knows!?
A secret Sometimes I go into autopilot, but my autopilot pilot has gone away for the weekend to fish or whatever, and so even though I know I should be doing things and I am actually doing things, it just looks like I'm reenacting a caveman who knocks into walls, stubs his toe, spills his drink every single time he drinks anything, and waits for about five seconds before replying in a conversation due to bewilderment that he's even in a conversation and a part of his brain trying to work out how to leave the conversation.
I reckon people must think I live in a restaurant because I constantly smell like food. Constantly. There is a small window of relief whenever I exit a shower, but even now after a day off work and only having reheated two hot soup meals, I STILL smell the food aroma. It's not even a pleasant one. It just smells like a bunch of cooked vegetables.
A Plan I'm really into trying to save money these days so I have come up with 'No Spend September' where I will spend money on rent/mortgage, bills, into my super, petrol, and a small amount of groceries, and nothing else.
Things I will not buy
- My weekly ice cream at the petrol station when filling up on petrol... ;'( Man, I LOVE those things. They are my EXISTENCE, as well as a few good people and all the faeries I have ever met, the faeries and people I have sketched, the monsters I've sewn, the stories I've ever written and all the characters I've tried to flesh out on the page, those magical spontaneous moments that come from nowhere, singing to music really loudly in the car with other people, smiling at strangers, watching someone blow bubbles and chase them, and a MILLION other things. There are millions of things! Like how I need to create Vincent's house, and go back to where I wrote ANOTHER character who was also called Vincent and see if there is a resemblance or if they are two entirely different people who could possibly share the love of custard tarts and watching football in the rain...
- Actually, to be 1000 per cent honest here, the ice creams aren't that great at all. They will have to go.
- Random chips to snack on while watching tv. I will try to drink water instead, or hot herbal teas.
- Random chocolates.
- Overpriced groceries. Ideally I would be shopping at only the Pasadena Foodland or the Frewville Foodland. They are literally the best thing since sliced bread, and when you think about it, how great is sliced bread without all that 'getting out a knife and cutting a crooked slice with a lump halfway through and a really thin end that impedes the butter knife and makes the butter pool or catch in different areas when being spread so you either bite into a whole chunk of butter and Vegemite or a whole chunk of plain bread or nothing at all, which leaves you feeling disjointed and annoyed at the whole world and everything in it, but you can't admit that when someone at work asks you why you look so pissed because it's a lame reason so you have to then create a scenario that seems half-what plausible, which makes you even more enraged because you then have to remember this scenario for others at work for the WHOLE DAY and by the time you get home you're so engulfed with this web of lies you have created that you down half a bottle of Jack and pass out in the bathtub'? All The Great. Sliced bread allow you to enjoy your day. And so do my Foodlands.
- HOWEVER
- There is a need to shop around and do the whole 'price check' thing that makes my brain feel like it's being stretched over an ironing board and steam-cleaned by a large, robust-looking Russian woman with a large moustache that would make a fortune in show biz and a full flask of vodka in her apron pocket.
- But if steam-cleaning my brain helps me get through this month of spring with more savings and less home loan, then so be it!
- Um, where was I?
- Yes, there is some debate about using public transport. As I get up at 5am a lot of mornings to be at work by 6am, I feel there is no need to stand out in the cold at about 3am to catch two buses and possibly one taxi so I can get to work by 6, so I'll keep petrol and my car in the challenge.
Things I Will Buy
- As outlined above, I will pay my bills, which in Septermber means my car Rego, a gas bill, one lot of phone credit and possibly a phone/internet bill.
- Petrol, that is basically 30 dollars each hit, and in a fortnight I can put 30 in one week and 40 in the other depending on how much driving I do.
- Mortgage and rent, and for me that is 400 a fortnight and 275 a fortnight respectively.
- Super is 50 a fortnight
- And groceries. Now, I am willing to try and spend 19.20 on groceries each week because I am only buying them for myself. That could be enough to get me bread, eggs, few bits of fruit, milk, yoghurt, a packet of frozen veggies, etc. I won't starve and I don't have to stick to that amount, but it's that amount for a reason and I will see if I can do it!
And that is all.
I may need the dentist and it may be a wonderfully hideous time where I feel the wrath of the dentist up close and gloved, but until that time and as long as my health holds out I will embark on this challenge.
Although, now that I'm writing about it I feel an incredible urge NOT to do it.
My brain is all like-- Scrubbing the back of itself using a loofah and then suddenly 'DON'T TAKE THE CHALLENGE, IT'S DUMB AND STUPID AND YOU REALLY DO NEED TO LIVE BY YOLO BECAUSE YOLO IS ALL THERE IS UNTIL TOMORROW! OREO'S ARE GREAT! WATCHING TV WHILE CHOWING DOWN A WHOLE PACKET OF CHEESIES IS EVEN GREATER! ICE CREAMS ARE THE BEEEEEEEST OMFG DO I HAVE TO COME OUT THERE AND WHOOP YOU ONE?? I WILL DO IT! I WILL NEED TO TAKE MY GLASSES OFF AND DO SOME STRETCHES, BUT YOU WILL GET A WHOOPING SON, JUST YO-
That One Time Where My Brain Used It's Outside Voice Inside My Head.
See you in Septermber!! (@__--)
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view but it's not sane
Friday, 25 August 2017
Wednesday, 16 August 2017
Is it wrong to eat ice cream at midnight?
There was this horrendous noise like rumbling thunder and firing cannons and somewhere further out even a screeching of a cat, which was rather odd considering the circumstances but merited nonetheless, and then suddenly a figure emerged from the ground all at once.
"Bloody HELL!" the figure screamed in a high voice.
She brushed dirt off her ancient-looking blouse and skirts combination, looking like she'd just spent a few good years inside a vacuum cleaner. She stamped her boots and shook her head so her frazzled and frayed hair stood about the place.
A black cat slinked around her ankles. She said: "I must have been down there for centuries!"
She turned around and clomped heavily into a little wooden cottage nearby and snatched up the old, white (but now coated entirely grey of dust and cobwebs) rotary phone and called her sister down in Dulwich.
"Myrtle! You wouldn't believe it!" she exclaimed down the line. "I've just come up from the earth!"
"The earth!?" came Myrtle's astonished reply. "Whatever for?"
"Search me!" the woman boomed. "Fancy some tea?"
"But Ederdall! You're all the way up East! It would take me almost four minutes to get there, and that's if the wind isn't kicking up another tantrum! You saw what happened to ol-"
"I was in the Earth Myrtle! The Earth!"
"Oh yes, good heavens," Myrtle muttered as Ederdall sat down a bit too fast on a little round stool that was lower than she had remembered it being.
"Well why on earth were you down there in the first place?" asked Myrtle, unable to hide the annoyance she was feeling at missing her favourite night-time television show. Surely Ederdall could hold off on being a drama queen for one day, couldn't she?
"Ahh, Myrtle..." chuckled Ederdall. "Always with the puns..."
"You were visiting uncle Herbal again weren't you?" Myrtle said in accusation.
Ederdall asked: "What year is it, Lemon Rind?"
Myrtle sighed, "2017, and don't call me lemon rind. It's offensive to all lemons and you know it."
Ederdall chuckled again. It sure was good to be back! How she had missed her sisters scoldings, and her little familiar's looks of disdain.
As if reading her mind, Myrtle asked sharply, "Is Briar there with you still? Or have you gone and lost him somewhere too?"
"Oh you chipped old cauldron! Worrying will give you warts, and we all know what happened to Avalon-"
"Such tragedy among one so young!"
"It surely was. Listen," Ederdall lowered her voice and looked about as though someone or something was listening in. "I haven't seen Beatrice for a while, have you? I believe she's up to something funny."
There was a sound like a balloon bursting and then Myrtle yelled rather too loudly for their modern phone conversation, "I'M COMING NOW, EDER BEE! FARELIE HAS JUST GONE INSANE- YES INSANE YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT YOU NONSENSE OF A CHILD! I'M TAKING THE CUSTARD WITH ME AND DON'T YOU DARE FOLLOW! -CAN YOU HEAR ME, EDERS? I'M COMING NOW."
Ederdall rolled her eyes. "Don't shout for heavens christ Myrtle. I have just came up from the Earth, not a Zysznel concert!"
"Oh you can hear me! Good! Don't leave out your chickens, and for the love of pumpkin pie BRING IN YOUR WEATHERVANE, the clouds and rain and wind are doing god knows up there toni-"
"My what?" Ederdall asked in complete bewilderment. Had her sister gone mad?
"Your- Weather- Vane!" Myrtle called out slowly.
"Myrtle I am not retarded, but I have no idea why you think I still own one."
There was a shocked silence. "But how have you been boiling your kettle and using the television? How is this phone even working?"
"This is the Modern Age, sister, and besides, I haven't needed to boil a kettle since 1921. I'll put on some newt eye stew for when you get here."
"Oh Ederdall, how have you been living? No, never mind! I'm on my way! I'll sort it all out for you. See you in three."
There was a clank as Myrtle hung up and Ederdall left her receiver on the stool while she went into the kitchen to light her candelabra and check the calendar.
"Chrimey!" she declared in annoyed surprise. "It's my birthday today!"
;..^__4..;
"Bloody HELL!" the figure screamed in a high voice.
She brushed dirt off her ancient-looking blouse and skirts combination, looking like she'd just spent a few good years inside a vacuum cleaner. She stamped her boots and shook her head so her frazzled and frayed hair stood about the place.
A black cat slinked around her ankles. She said: "I must have been down there for centuries!"
She turned around and clomped heavily into a little wooden cottage nearby and snatched up the old, white (but now coated entirely grey of dust and cobwebs) rotary phone and called her sister down in Dulwich.
"Myrtle! You wouldn't believe it!" she exclaimed down the line. "I've just come up from the earth!"
"The earth!?" came Myrtle's astonished reply. "Whatever for?"
"Search me!" the woman boomed. "Fancy some tea?"
"But Ederdall! You're all the way up East! It would take me almost four minutes to get there, and that's if the wind isn't kicking up another tantrum! You saw what happened to ol-"
"I was in the Earth Myrtle! The Earth!"
"Oh yes, good heavens," Myrtle muttered as Ederdall sat down a bit too fast on a little round stool that was lower than she had remembered it being.
"Well why on earth were you down there in the first place?" asked Myrtle, unable to hide the annoyance she was feeling at missing her favourite night-time television show. Surely Ederdall could hold off on being a drama queen for one day, couldn't she?
"Ahh, Myrtle..." chuckled Ederdall. "Always with the puns..."
"You were visiting uncle Herbal again weren't you?" Myrtle said in accusation.
Ederdall asked: "What year is it, Lemon Rind?"
Myrtle sighed, "2017, and don't call me lemon rind. It's offensive to all lemons and you know it."
Ederdall chuckled again. It sure was good to be back! How she had missed her sisters scoldings, and her little familiar's looks of disdain.
As if reading her mind, Myrtle asked sharply, "Is Briar there with you still? Or have you gone and lost him somewhere too?"
"Oh you chipped old cauldron! Worrying will give you warts, and we all know what happened to Avalon-"
"Such tragedy among one so young!"
"It surely was. Listen," Ederdall lowered her voice and looked about as though someone or something was listening in. "I haven't seen Beatrice for a while, have you? I believe she's up to something funny."
There was a sound like a balloon bursting and then Myrtle yelled rather too loudly for their modern phone conversation, "I'M COMING NOW, EDER BEE! FARELIE HAS JUST GONE INSANE- YES INSANE YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT YOU NONSENSE OF A CHILD! I'M TAKING THE CUSTARD WITH ME AND DON'T YOU DARE FOLLOW! -CAN YOU HEAR ME, EDERS? I'M COMING NOW."
Ederdall rolled her eyes. "Don't shout for heavens christ Myrtle. I have just came up from the Earth, not a Zysznel concert!"
"Oh you can hear me! Good! Don't leave out your chickens, and for the love of pumpkin pie BRING IN YOUR WEATHERVANE, the clouds and rain and wind are doing god knows up there toni-"
"My what?" Ederdall asked in complete bewilderment. Had her sister gone mad?
"Your- Weather- Vane!" Myrtle called out slowly.
"Myrtle I am not retarded, but I have no idea why you think I still own one."
There was a shocked silence. "But how have you been boiling your kettle and using the television? How is this phone even working?"
"This is the Modern Age, sister, and besides, I haven't needed to boil a kettle since 1921. I'll put on some newt eye stew for when you get here."
"Oh Ederdall, how have you been living? No, never mind! I'm on my way! I'll sort it all out for you. See you in three."
There was a clank as Myrtle hung up and Ederdall left her receiver on the stool while she went into the kitchen to light her candelabra and check the calendar.
"Chrimey!" she declared in annoyed surprise. "It's my birthday today!"
;..^__4..;
Saturday, 12 August 2017
Who knows, who knows what I am thinking...?
It's like turning left. All the time. All at once.
Like carrying around a drawstring bag of memories and emotions and situations and things, and every day pulling the string tighter.
It's like eating a whole block of chocolate.
Like waking up hot and dehydrated, shrinking and tight yet also puffed up and expanding.
Suddenly aware of every little thing in your surroundings and stopping to wonder: how long have the clouds been there?
It's like finding out someone who you've known forever is a real alcoholic instead of the chuckling, beer-swigging hooligan who should spend all their time carving pumpkins and riding tractors.
It's like that one time in the car with that feeling and the acceleration because something actually mattered.
For once, life had meaning and it was going to be recorded. The recording may be jumbled or in lists or in different colour pen, but it would be somewhere and it would exist.
Songs Today
* Jesus of Suburbia Greenday
* Grinspoon, better off alone
* No Rain Blind Melon
* And She Was Talking Heads
* Homecoming Greeenday
* Church on Sunday Greenday
It's like opening the fridge and going, 'Hey, I have a lemon!'
Like carrying around a drawstring bag of memories and emotions and situations and things, and every day pulling the string tighter.
It's like eating a whole block of chocolate.
Like waking up hot and dehydrated, shrinking and tight yet also puffed up and expanding.
Suddenly aware of every little thing in your surroundings and stopping to wonder: how long have the clouds been there?
It's like finding out someone who you've known forever is a real alcoholic instead of the chuckling, beer-swigging hooligan who should spend all their time carving pumpkins and riding tractors.
It's like that one time in the car with that feeling and the acceleration because something actually mattered.
For once, life had meaning and it was going to be recorded. The recording may be jumbled or in lists or in different colour pen, but it would be somewhere and it would exist.
Songs Today
* Jesus of Suburbia Greenday
* Grinspoon, better off alone
* No Rain Blind Melon
* And She Was Talking Heads
* Homecoming Greeenday
* Church on Sunday Greenday
It's like opening the fridge and going, 'Hey, I have a lemon!'
Friday, 4 August 2017
Can I get a 'Hell Yeah?'
Unless that's already been one of my blog titles, in which case, ignore and move on.
Yes.
Moving on.
How hard is that shit?
Like, not even going to fool around with the words and sentence layouts because this type of thing is no joke. It's real, and it's hard.
So. Bloody. Hard.
A Snapshot into my Current Life. (AKA, Stop looking at that bloody gnome and pay attention to me).
Ok. So what I really want to write is something like:
My Wonderful Life:
~ I always start my mornings off with a kale and veggie juice smoothie packed with vitamins and ten thousand other unheard of minerals that are actually really good for you
~ Then I do yoga stretches. I'm well acquainted with my core, I know ALL ABOUT my stretch limits, and my Downward Dog pose is spec-woofin-tacular.
~ Jump in the shower, hydrate to the h20 with my ample supply of freshly washed water bottles that I bought specifically to put water in and hydrate with.
~ I love my job!! It brings me fulfillment in a way I could never have imagined, I always pick my hours, I am an example of a good work/life balance because I know how to refuse shifts while charming the people with my charismatic charm.
~ Arts and Crafts are two words I use every single day.
~ I just finished making a tea cosy.
~ Got my car serviced, paid all my bills on time, have some spare cash just lying around so I invested it, and yes, my savings goals are coming along real nice, thanks for asking.
~ I am a gracious, good-natured lady who interacts with family well. You want wit? I've got it! You need an ear? Have one of mine! Doing some heavy lifting? Let me help! Problems? I gotchu.
~ I wear stylish and clean clothes daily because I matched my wardrobe to the Harry Potter aesthetic pinterest boards.
~ I do everything I have ever pinned. Completion is my middle name. I also own a pin-board IRL.
~ I glide home after a busy but productive day at the work life, pull up into my driveway and glance over at the bees bumbling away over the grass. I can reach my handbag! Why is this? Why is it so easy to just extend my arm and lift it off my passenger seat? Could it be because there's nothing else on the passenger seat? Maybe the ease could be due to the fact I actually clean my car out every time I drive it?? Who's to know!!?? Certainly not I! And certainly not anything in my car, ever, seeing as how it looks like I live in it 24/7, and could also probably be hoarding half of someone else's crap along with all of mine.
~ MEAL PREP
~ TIDY AS YOU GO
~ HEALTHY HABITS
~ ACTUALLY MAKING THE MOVE
~ COFFEE IN THE SUN
~ ACTUAL SUN
The Actual Snapshot:
~ There is no sun. At all.
~ I roll out of bed wearing half of my wardrobe due to the fact my house is freezing most of the time because, one: it's winter, and two: we leave the door open so the cat (not mine) can decide to wander out for five minutes and then wander back in again once a day. Yes. This is correct.
~ I make a mug of black coffee and down it within six seconds, or two hours, depending on if i'm working
~ My car has roughly about 6 water bottles rolling around (I kid. They don't roll. They sit tightly squished against other crap and have been in that position for the past month), and they're all the kind of cheap plastic that I tell myself I WILL NEVER BUY AGAIN EVER, whenever I do buy one. As you can see this has worked out really well.
~ I listen to the same songs on my ipod that I have done five years ago. These days I have been bangin out to Green Day, believe it or not. I have replayed 'misery' and 'homecoming' about three thousand times because I love the end of the song where they sing 'hoooooooome.... we're coming hoooome, again.' Sometimes it makes me cry. And other times it gives me a warm feeling of newness/old memories/the sun rising at dawn.
~ The sun rising at dawn is quite possibly the best feeling in the world, unless you knew it was your last day.
~ I never turn down shifts. I work all the shifts, all the time, and one day my body will break down until I am just a head, and they will magnify it so it is three times the size of a normal head like The Face Of Boe, but I will be the Face Of Cerri, and I will live in a tank of water and tell prophecies, or some such nonsense. I was very tired when I watched that episode of Doctor Who.
~ But yes. I spend my entire life at work so I can earn money and pay off the house I bought asap. My goal in in the next five years, however, with my non-existent savings- even though I spend hours at a time doing the math and working it alllllllllll out- and pittance of pay that I actually receive, it will probably take me 1000052 years exactly.
~ The house is not entirely mine, nor do I live in it, and nor is it one I exceptionally like. I bought it for someone else, and thus, I am living my life for them. I had envisioned this scenario that when I finally transferred the money and it was all done, I would be free, but all it's done is propel me into another time-consuming situation where I have no way out unless I pay it off as fast as I humanly can.
~ So! Therefore! I do not pop into my parents house or see my family in the expected way as outlined above. I am often tired or caught up some stupid war. There is always a war going on and I have never known calm intellectual interaction. Although, recently it's been coming along nicely with only a few minor hitches
--- let's all just touch some wood here
and I must say, those short periods of calm intellectual interaction are treasured quite deeply, maybe more than other people treasure their family interactions. Or maybe not, who knows where my words are coming from? Certainly not my mouth! Haw haw haw
~ After a long-ass day handling food and bending in ways that I shouldn't so I can reach around to the back of the toilet bowl, I squeal into my driveway because my car needs a service and I keep putting it off, so the wiper blade cover slumps and slops about when moving, the brakes make a high squeal whenever I press them, the left indicator doesn't work unless you jam it hard all the way up and then it goes super fast, the right drivers window always ends up a tiny crack down in the course of driving that lets in that frantic wind 'wheoeoeoeoeoesssssh' noise, and lastly, there is always ONE ANT somewhere in that car. These days I also get the 'clankity clank' of my partners lawnmower in the boot whenever I go over a speed bump, which I was thinking today isn't a good sign because it could be damaging the lawn mower when it bumps against the car, and the whole point of lugging his lawn mower all over the country side was so I didn't have to buy one.
~ I grab two or three things that I can be bothered taking into the house while thinking 'I'll take the REST OF THIS TOP HAT SHIT IN LATERZ HOMIE G' because I cbf hauling it all in.
~ Laterz never actually arrives. His brother does though, the one called 'Let's see how much stuff can last in this car before I have a mental breakdown and throw it all on the side of a highway',
~ Then I open the fridge and stare at it because, well, I haven't meal prepped since that lonesome instagram photo, like, four months ago, and staring at a half carton of eggs, milk, some food colouring, hard butter that makes me cringe to spread, half a pineapple wrapped in clingwrap and a three quarter bag of carrots just seems like a really fun thing to do.
~ I close the fridge and have a ten second shower while moaning about how this winter is definitely worse than ever before and it can't possibly get any colder, or any wetter, or any worse than this very day, which is about 14 degrees and not even that terrible at all.
~ I replace yoga with scrolling through real estate houses while huddled up under two quilts, one blanket, ten layers of clothes including a pair of tights and a pair of pants with holes in the bum region, a wheat bag that smells like food on account of ONCE heating it unknowingly with some food stains on the top of the microwave, a beanie, a bar heater right up next to the bed, and a mug of steaming mocha to warm my chaotic heart in the form of a cracking stalactite.
~ I replace kale with marmalade on buttery toast.
If I was ever to have a boy or even a little bird, I would call them Buttery. The very thought warms my cold stalactite.
The thing is: I LOVE my books. I could never throw them out. So I haul them in my car from place to place in the freezing cold and hard rain. The whole back of my car is filled to the doors with books that I LOVE, to the point where I had thrown my beloved owl mug that my partner had given me back there, and it was happily rolling around on the mounds of books and possibly shopping bags, clothes just bought, shoes, a toy sword, and etc, and then one day I gaily opened the back drivers door and a heap of books toppled out along with my mug. THAT SMASHED. Not into a thousand tiny pieces as one would expect from such a delicate ornament Holy Jesus it's almost midnight.
ALSO
I JUST WANT TO POINT OUT THAT FACEBOOK HAS TRIGGERED THIS SPIDER FEAR THING AND I JUST NOW SAW A BLACK MOVING THING ON MY RIGHT OF THE BED.
Hoping for a mouse, but just really want to sleep. My whole life is this one continuous run of situations in which I react.
Ahhh yesss, the mouse.
Well.
Wasn't that a fun time for all involved?
I hammered apart my wardrobe and did, indeed, find mice mess underneath, but I found the most mess under my shelves and bedside drawers. I ended up knocking out all the bottoms of all my furniture so that nothing could hide and I would be able to see in. It's surprising how much furniture is hollow underneath with a wooden plank that sits at the front, and I will not stand for it!
I REFUSE TO STAND FOR---
This has been a bulletin report by Cerri Fae, who is 'not joking guys' when she says there could be a mouse on her very bed, this very minute.
Goodnight from the newsroom, and we'll see you tomorrow.
+
Yes.
Moving on.
How hard is that shit?
Like, not even going to fool around with the words and sentence layouts because this type of thing is no joke. It's real, and it's hard.
So. Bloody. Hard.
A Snapshot into my Current Life. (AKA, Stop looking at that bloody gnome and pay attention to me).
Ok. So what I really want to write is something like:
My Wonderful Life:
~ I always start my mornings off with a kale and veggie juice smoothie packed with vitamins and ten thousand other unheard of minerals that are actually really good for you
~ Then I do yoga stretches. I'm well acquainted with my core, I know ALL ABOUT my stretch limits, and my Downward Dog pose is spec-woofin-tacular.
~ Jump in the shower, hydrate to the h20 with my ample supply of freshly washed water bottles that I bought specifically to put water in and hydrate with.
~ I love my job!! It brings me fulfillment in a way I could never have imagined, I always pick my hours, I am an example of a good work/life balance because I know how to refuse shifts while charming the people with my charismatic charm.
~ Arts and Crafts are two words I use every single day.
~ I just finished making a tea cosy.
~ Got my car serviced, paid all my bills on time, have some spare cash just lying around so I invested it, and yes, my savings goals are coming along real nice, thanks for asking.
~ I am a gracious, good-natured lady who interacts with family well. You want wit? I've got it! You need an ear? Have one of mine! Doing some heavy lifting? Let me help! Problems? I gotchu.
~ I wear stylish and clean clothes daily because I matched my wardrobe to the Harry Potter aesthetic pinterest boards.
~ I do everything I have ever pinned. Completion is my middle name. I also own a pin-board IRL.
~ I glide home after a busy but productive day at the work life, pull up into my driveway and glance over at the bees bumbling away over the grass. I can reach my handbag! Why is this? Why is it so easy to just extend my arm and lift it off my passenger seat? Could it be because there's nothing else on the passenger seat? Maybe the ease could be due to the fact I actually clean my car out every time I drive it?? Who's to know!!?? Certainly not I! And certainly not anything in my car, ever, seeing as how it looks like I live in it 24/7, and could also probably be hoarding half of someone else's crap along with all of mine.
~ MEAL PREP
~ TIDY AS YOU GO
~ HEALTHY HABITS
~ ACTUALLY MAKING THE MOVE
~ COFFEE IN THE SUN
~ ACTUAL SUN
The Actual Snapshot:
~ There is no sun. At all.
~ I roll out of bed wearing half of my wardrobe due to the fact my house is freezing most of the time because, one: it's winter, and two: we leave the door open so the cat (not mine) can decide to wander out for five minutes and then wander back in again once a day. Yes. This is correct.
~ I make a mug of black coffee and down it within six seconds, or two hours, depending on if i'm working
~ My car has roughly about 6 water bottles rolling around (I kid. They don't roll. They sit tightly squished against other crap and have been in that position for the past month), and they're all the kind of cheap plastic that I tell myself I WILL NEVER BUY AGAIN EVER, whenever I do buy one. As you can see this has worked out really well.
~ I listen to the same songs on my ipod that I have done five years ago. These days I have been bangin out to Green Day, believe it or not. I have replayed 'misery' and 'homecoming' about three thousand times because I love the end of the song where they sing 'hoooooooome.... we're coming hoooome, again.' Sometimes it makes me cry. And other times it gives me a warm feeling of newness/old memories/the sun rising at dawn.
~ The sun rising at dawn is quite possibly the best feeling in the world, unless you knew it was your last day.
~ I never turn down shifts. I work all the shifts, all the time, and one day my body will break down until I am just a head, and they will magnify it so it is three times the size of a normal head like The Face Of Boe, but I will be the Face Of Cerri, and I will live in a tank of water and tell prophecies, or some such nonsense. I was very tired when I watched that episode of Doctor Who.
~ But yes. I spend my entire life at work so I can earn money and pay off the house I bought asap. My goal in in the next five years, however, with my non-existent savings- even though I spend hours at a time doing the math and working it alllllllllll out- and pittance of pay that I actually receive, it will probably take me 1000052 years exactly.
~ The house is not entirely mine, nor do I live in it, and nor is it one I exceptionally like. I bought it for someone else, and thus, I am living my life for them. I had envisioned this scenario that when I finally transferred the money and it was all done, I would be free, but all it's done is propel me into another time-consuming situation where I have no way out unless I pay it off as fast as I humanly can.
~ So! Therefore! I do not pop into my parents house or see my family in the expected way as outlined above. I am often tired or caught up some stupid war. There is always a war going on and I have never known calm intellectual interaction. Although, recently it's been coming along nicely with only a few minor hitches
--- let's all just touch some wood here
and I must say, those short periods of calm intellectual interaction are treasured quite deeply, maybe more than other people treasure their family interactions. Or maybe not, who knows where my words are coming from? Certainly not my mouth! Haw haw haw
~ After a long-ass day handling food and bending in ways that I shouldn't so I can reach around to the back of the toilet bowl, I squeal into my driveway because my car needs a service and I keep putting it off, so the wiper blade cover slumps and slops about when moving, the brakes make a high squeal whenever I press them, the left indicator doesn't work unless you jam it hard all the way up and then it goes super fast, the right drivers window always ends up a tiny crack down in the course of driving that lets in that frantic wind 'wheoeoeoeoeoesssssh' noise, and lastly, there is always ONE ANT somewhere in that car. These days I also get the 'clankity clank' of my partners lawnmower in the boot whenever I go over a speed bump, which I was thinking today isn't a good sign because it could be damaging the lawn mower when it bumps against the car, and the whole point of lugging his lawn mower all over the country side was so I didn't have to buy one.
~ I grab two or three things that I can be bothered taking into the house while thinking 'I'll take the REST OF THIS TOP HAT SHIT IN LATERZ HOMIE G' because I cbf hauling it all in.
~ Laterz never actually arrives. His brother does though, the one called 'Let's see how much stuff can last in this car before I have a mental breakdown and throw it all on the side of a highway',
~ Then I open the fridge and stare at it because, well, I haven't meal prepped since that lonesome instagram photo, like, four months ago, and staring at a half carton of eggs, milk, some food colouring, hard butter that makes me cringe to spread, half a pineapple wrapped in clingwrap and a three quarter bag of carrots just seems like a really fun thing to do.
~ I close the fridge and have a ten second shower while moaning about how this winter is definitely worse than ever before and it can't possibly get any colder, or any wetter, or any worse than this very day, which is about 14 degrees and not even that terrible at all.
~ I replace yoga with scrolling through real estate houses while huddled up under two quilts, one blanket, ten layers of clothes including a pair of tights and a pair of pants with holes in the bum region, a wheat bag that smells like food on account of ONCE heating it unknowingly with some food stains on the top of the microwave, a beanie, a bar heater right up next to the bed, and a mug of steaming mocha to warm my chaotic heart in the form of a cracking stalactite.
~ I replace kale with marmalade on buttery toast.
If I was ever to have a boy or even a little bird, I would call them Buttery. The very thought warms my cold stalactite.
The thing is: I LOVE my books. I could never throw them out. So I haul them in my car from place to place in the freezing cold and hard rain. The whole back of my car is filled to the doors with books that I LOVE, to the point where I had thrown my beloved owl mug that my partner had given me back there, and it was happily rolling around on the mounds of books and possibly shopping bags, clothes just bought, shoes, a toy sword, and etc, and then one day I gaily opened the back drivers door and a heap of books toppled out along with my mug. THAT SMASHED. Not into a thousand tiny pieces as one would expect from such a delicate ornament Holy Jesus it's almost midnight.
ALSO
I JUST WANT TO POINT OUT THAT FACEBOOK HAS TRIGGERED THIS SPIDER FEAR THING AND I JUST NOW SAW A BLACK MOVING THING ON MY RIGHT OF THE BED.
Hoping for a mouse, but just really want to sleep. My whole life is this one continuous run of situations in which I react.
Ahhh yesss, the mouse.
Well.
Wasn't that a fun time for all involved?
I hammered apart my wardrobe and did, indeed, find mice mess underneath, but I found the most mess under my shelves and bedside drawers. I ended up knocking out all the bottoms of all my furniture so that nothing could hide and I would be able to see in. It's surprising how much furniture is hollow underneath with a wooden plank that sits at the front, and I will not stand for it!
I REFUSE TO STAND FOR---
This has been a bulletin report by Cerri Fae, who is 'not joking guys' when she says there could be a mouse on her very bed, this very minute.
Goodnight from the newsroom, and we'll see you tomorrow.
+
Sunday, 9 July 2017
Would you stay if she promised you heaven?
Cerri says:
"Rainbow mosaic flower vases, dream catchers, coffee in a variety of strength and taste, and red. That is my day."
Red was a big theme. At the hospital it was the Physiotherapists blouse. In the car it was the colour I felt most, being rage, and maybe even out-of-control like a bull who charges at a waving red cloth, even though we all know it's not the colour but the waving which attracts the bulls attention. It was the colour on the take away bag that the shop assistant gave me to store the flowers in because the stems were poking through the plastic bag and, therefore, dripping water on the cafe floor, therefore spiraling me even further own Alice's rabbit hole of chaotic disaster. Red is the colour of a ball of wool sitting on my over-cluttered desk, a collection of random books covers mixed in with a suitcase full of books I lugged to my car and piled neatly on the seat as a means of storage, and the little light on my bar heater that I am using to dry my only comfortable pair of work pants so I can wear them tomorrow. And lastly, it is the colour theme of Youtube, which is trying it's hardest to calm my horrified soul at the destruction and positively traumatic state of my bedroom as I try to get about six months of mouse stuff out of it.
Six months.
I'll just let that sink in.
Yes, it is rather terrifying, isn't it? It does induce a rising feeling akin to that of a total meltdown frenzy, doesn't it?
Not only did I find a layer of mouse droppings under my bookshelf- because these days furniture is built with that thin space at the bottom, FOR GOD KNOWS WHAT PURPOSE, and it's designed in such a way that the space faces the wall so insects and rodents can build an entire ecosystem and live in it for about, oh I don't know, eternity- I also found droppings under another cupboard with the exact same space setup, and am only just finding out this very minute that my wardrobe has an EVEN BIGGER SPACE under it where MULTIPLE MICE have pretty much fouled up the entire unit from underneath, middle, to top.
I won't even mention the smell I noticed upon breaking some wood off the bottom of my wardrobe so I could peek in.
Not even going to mention the state of the carpet under there. Or basically the entire carpet of my entire room.
Red is the colour of a mild heart attack.
So I have a mouse invasion! Pretty neat! Amazingly adventurous! I can and will totally kick this mouse or mice family back out into the wild where it/they belong and completely cleanse my room in some sort of wiccan/witchy/spiritual/smudgey sage stick way, but also with lots of action, possible tears, loss of sweat, and a massive dose of blaringly-loud Talking Head songs on repeat.
The Plan
1. Knock down the wardrobe, store clothes on a temporary clothes rack thing, clean and vacuum under wardrobe. Try to block this event from my memory.
2. Get copper wool, or something like dish steel wool stuff, and plug the hole- YES! A HOLE! RIGHT IN THE CORNER OF MY ROOM FOR EVERY MOUSE AND MOUSE FRIEND AND OTHER FURRY TYPE FRIEND TO JUST COME WALTZING IN FROM AND SET UP SHOP WITHOUT PAYING RENT AND WITH THE AUDACITY TO EAT ALL THE MIDDLES OUT OF MY CUPCAKE PATTIES.
3. Set up a good few mouse traps with mouse-appetising foods like twisties, peanut butter and chocolate.
4. Shop around, find wardrobe with either no bottom space or really tall legs, buy wardrobe, lug wardrobe home, set up, take nap, wake and admire said wardrobe.
- Chuck out all of my clothes
- Buy all new clothes
- Chuck out all my furniture except the table my dad made
- Buy ALL NEW furniture: two large bookcases in white, one bedside table with drawers in white, one cabinet with drawers devoted ENTIRELY to lady undergarments
- Roll around in all this money I have somehow acquired
- Cry into a mug of hot cocoa with melting marshmallows because I really liked all my odd furniture, it had memories, and I'm a sensitive, sentimental soul who collects things upon a whim, and I really, really, don't like slimy melting marshmallows in my drink and why does life have to be so unfair
Other Things I Did Today That Pale In Comparison To My Mouse Drama (In order of appearance)
*Wobbled as I knelt down to pick up a spilled container of butter portions at work and had to steady myself. (THIS IS IMPORTANT FOR LATER)
*Noticed that there was a GIGANTIC SPIDER ON THE FLOOR WHERE I WAS WORKING
-WHERE I HAD JUST WOBBLED
--JUST SITTING THERE WITH A BENT LEG
---IT COULD POSSIBLY BE BROKEN
----WHY, I COULD HAVE BROKEN IT... WHEN I WOBBLED AND SAT CASUALLY BUT QUICKLY ONTO THE GROUND
----- I.... COULD.... HAVE.... SAT.... ON.... A.... SPIDER....
*Rang up a lady in a different area to come and deal with it for me. ^__^
*Bought two coffees from a vending machine. Now this is where I absolutely draw the line. FIRSTLY, they had no lids. So there I was, holding a bunch of flowers between my arm and side while holding two open, hot, dangerously close to the top coffees, and I had to keep stopping to inch my fingers up the cup to that millimeter or so of free space (and here we have another object with a space issue, one I prepared earlier, cleverly put together, affordable, pleasing to the eye, but it's just missing that something... 3/10!!).
SECONDLY, after making my way down the long, winding hallways at a snails pace in an awkward crab-like position, I decided to sip my coffee so as to reduce the amount of awkwardness I was giving off in general, and that was a mistake.
Vending machine coffee is the worst. I don't understand how it can be so bad when it's literally just Nescafe blend. What is Nescafe putting in their vending machine blend? What are they even doing? How are they living their lives?
So I ditched those cups asap and legged it to a freshly brewed cafe where I paid for two decent coffees and one custard tart that I knocked on the ground before being able to eat, and let me tell you. That first sip was heaven. Not entirely as heavenly as my Peterbae's smell, and not quite as heavenly as realising you don't have to wake up and go to work the next day, but close enough.
Plus it was rainy, cloudy, and cold outside, and that just makes really great coffee and sitting in a chair all the better.
*Does anyone else think they see something move out of the corner of their eye all the time lately? Or is it just me?
*Meal-prepped like a boss. Nine meals consisting of brown rice, broccoli, carrot, potato, sweet potato and pumpkin are all ready to go or freeze. Add chicken or chickpea, onion and garlic mix as you like.
* Turned my laptop off and on because, once again, my mouse-pad glitches and stops working, thus freezing the whole computer.
Cerri says:
"I feel like spontaneously combusting, but I think I can hold it in for another day. By doing small things that matter, such as a load of washing, a load of dishes, and moving a pile of stuff out of my room to make space (once again: more is less!) every day, I can gradually chip away at this massively, hideously, outrageously too big task looming before me and complete it with ease and without losing my mind."
*(^_^)*
Tuesday, 4 July 2017
Could I possibly trouble you for seconds?
Vincent had a tried and true method of staying on the broom whilst riding.
His method was glue.
"You d- you glu- you WHAT?!" spluttered Tarot.
Vincent winced, tried to turn around and look at the perfectly straight, perfectly polished, and expertly-tied broomstick, but hit a lamp post with the end, winced again, and frowned at a sloppily painted frog ornament sitting against the fence.
"WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING?" Tarot howled and stamped. "AM I JUST A PRETTY FACE? DOES MY EXTREME GROOMING AND ENTIRE COLLECTION OF CELION DION IGNITE A DESPERATE URGE FOR YOU TO PROVE YOURSELF TO ME?"
"I beg yours," Vincent straightened, winced as the end of the broomstick attached to his bottom hit the ground, and fixed this 'Tarot' with his almighty glare. "I have no such urges, as you say. I am a happily married man-"
Tarot stamped his dainty, rather shiny, boot once again. His face had turned an unhealthy shade of red that, paired with his unnaturally orange hair and orange-red clothes, made him look like the beginning of a rainbow. "MY BROOMSTICK IS SPLINTERING ON YOUR VERY BACKSIDE, NAY, THE VERY FABRIC OF YOUR BACKSIDE! I DEMAND ANSWERS! I DEMAND THIS HOLE IN MY SHOE TO BE FIXED! I DEMAND SOLACE FROM YOU AND YOUR ASTONISHING LARGE BODY!"
"Yeah alright, alright!" Vincent called over the top of him. He'd been turning and straightening for a good few minutes and non of it had gotten him anywhere. If anything, Vincent felt that his movements had caused the broom to splinter further into his behind and he was not ready for such intrusion.
"You talk back to me!" Tarot breathed furiously. "To ME?!"
"Keep it all on the table for a minute!" Vincent said loudly, with agitation and dismissal that could not be ignored. He was preparing himself mentally and physically to do something he had hoped never in his life to ever have to do.
Tarot saw this facial expression, this stance, this sudden change in demeanor. "No!" he gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"
Vincent snickered. He should never have dared get on this broom in the first place. Flying at top speed as high up as the sun was an excellent idea unless you were afraid of heights, which Vincent was. Not only was he morbidly obese, he was also morbidly afraid of riding in an airplane, looking out of a two story window, watching the numbers in an elevator increase, the thought of chimneys, daydreaming or overhearing a conversation about hot air balloons, and seeing crickets up close.
"I told you to slow down up there!" Vincent yelled in a careful and very still manner.
"Broomsticks have only one speed," Tarot said pompously.
"I was leaning so far back I saw the ring of Saturn!"
Tarot gingerly rubbed his sides. "Don't remind me."
"And all the stops!" Vincent swept his arm wide as if gesturing to a jumbled collection of tangible stops. "Who has time for all that landing and taking off? I was forced to fasten myself! In any way I could!"
"I am an errand boy!" Tarot yelled. "I run the errands and I only, ONLY, polish with Traxwax twice a day as it says upon the packaging!"
"Well!" Vincent hissed with a gleam in his eye. "WAX THIS!"
"OH WAIT!" Tarot stepped forwards with his arms up just as Vincent bent down with a rumble of a cry, reached between his legs, grabbed the broom end (which, Vincent had to admit, was extremely polished, so polished that he was firstly: afraid his hands would slide off, and secondly: reminded of his bald Uncle Barnaby who was in desperate need of a good polishing product) and pulled as hard as his jiggly arms would allow.
"PERSEPINE!"
Vincent howled in pain. In one surprisingly swift motion, the broom, his trousers, his underpants, and a small portion of his skin all went hurtling up into the air.
"Flumpering lumberjacks!" Vincent squealed. He slowly reached around and touched the patch of raw skin. "Quick!" he called out to Tarot. "Do a healing spell!"
Tarot, in a motion not unlike that of a movie villain, casually flung his hand out to the side, almost without thinking, and caught his falling, splintered, now-bent broom. "May the wrath of a thousand tiny flea-infested ants roam your body and leave you with no peace until your parting day on this earth. And what of healing ointments you must surely try? They will fail! THEY ALL WILL FAIL YOU!"
Vincent blinked in rapid succession. "That's a funny sounding healing spell."
Tarot looked as if he would snap like an overly-tall, overly-autumn, severely orange twig. His hands clenched in rage and his whole body shook with what could have been a silent curse of intent or an extreme urge to line dance, but was most likely just a fit of intense rage towards this man who had half his bum showing in public.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I HAVE NURTURED THIS FINE SPECIMEN OF WOOD?!" Tarot shouted.
"Well, err, I would guess-"
"LONGER THAN YOU HAVE EVER SPENT SITTING ON A TOILET! OR PRUNING YOUR CACTUS! OR TAKING PART IN ALL THE OTHER IMPOSSIBLE THINGS YOU DO AT FOUR FIFTY-EIGHT IN THE AM YOU ALTERNATIVE TANDY BARN OWL!"
"Pruning my-?"
Tarot raised his arms, his eyes wide, his hair flying about his head, for some reason, as if an invisible hair dryer was blowing in his face, and he opened his mouth.
Vincent cringed into himself with his hands still covering his bottom. He was sure that Tarot would spout a curse so horrible it would be like the time Vincent had to spend the summer with his Aunt Millistein in the town of Harrowsbay Shore. The entire occasion had been spent either eating boiled cabbage with cashew nuts in, or playing backgammon on a board made from an old man's termite-ridden kitchen cabinet door, and every morning Vincent would come downstairs to find disturbingly large holes chewed out where his own checkers had been.
"WHAT ARE YOU DILL BATONS DOING DOWN THERE?"
The high-pitched shrill of a woman tore Vincent out of his disturbing memory. He opened one eye. Had Tarot's curse somehow backfired and turned him into a female? Come to think of it, Vincent hadn't heard Tarot say anything at all. Maybe he was one of those accomplished lot who could do magic in their heads. Yes, that was it.
Tarot was frowning up at a woman leaning out of a fourth story window.
"AS IS YOUR ORDER, YOUNG MAIDEN FROM THE EAST-" he called up to her while performing an elaborate bow, but she cut him off.
"Oh you're so old fashioned you make my glass slippers cry!" the woman snorted and waved the drink she was holding precariously over her window ledge. "Go read a book! But before you do that, come in and watch me charm my squash tree."
*
6^^^^6
v<(* ___*)>v
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#
His method was glue.
"You d- you glu- you WHAT?!" spluttered Tarot.
Vincent winced, tried to turn around and look at the perfectly straight, perfectly polished, and expertly-tied broomstick, but hit a lamp post with the end, winced again, and frowned at a sloppily painted frog ornament sitting against the fence.
"WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING?" Tarot howled and stamped. "AM I JUST A PRETTY FACE? DOES MY EXTREME GROOMING AND ENTIRE COLLECTION OF CELION DION IGNITE A DESPERATE URGE FOR YOU TO PROVE YOURSELF TO ME?"
"I beg yours," Vincent straightened, winced as the end of the broomstick attached to his bottom hit the ground, and fixed this 'Tarot' with his almighty glare. "I have no such urges, as you say. I am a happily married man-"
Tarot stamped his dainty, rather shiny, boot once again. His face had turned an unhealthy shade of red that, paired with his unnaturally orange hair and orange-red clothes, made him look like the beginning of a rainbow. "MY BROOMSTICK IS SPLINTERING ON YOUR VERY BACKSIDE, NAY, THE VERY FABRIC OF YOUR BACKSIDE! I DEMAND ANSWERS! I DEMAND THIS HOLE IN MY SHOE TO BE FIXED! I DEMAND SOLACE FROM YOU AND YOUR ASTONISHING LARGE BODY!"
"Yeah alright, alright!" Vincent called over the top of him. He'd been turning and straightening for a good few minutes and non of it had gotten him anywhere. If anything, Vincent felt that his movements had caused the broom to splinter further into his behind and he was not ready for such intrusion.
"You talk back to me!" Tarot breathed furiously. "To ME?!"
"Keep it all on the table for a minute!" Vincent said loudly, with agitation and dismissal that could not be ignored. He was preparing himself mentally and physically to do something he had hoped never in his life to ever have to do.
Tarot saw this facial expression, this stance, this sudden change in demeanor. "No!" he gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"
Vincent snickered. He should never have dared get on this broom in the first place. Flying at top speed as high up as the sun was an excellent idea unless you were afraid of heights, which Vincent was. Not only was he morbidly obese, he was also morbidly afraid of riding in an airplane, looking out of a two story window, watching the numbers in an elevator increase, the thought of chimneys, daydreaming or overhearing a conversation about hot air balloons, and seeing crickets up close.
"I told you to slow down up there!" Vincent yelled in a careful and very still manner.
"Broomsticks have only one speed," Tarot said pompously.
"I was leaning so far back I saw the ring of Saturn!"
Tarot gingerly rubbed his sides. "Don't remind me."
"And all the stops!" Vincent swept his arm wide as if gesturing to a jumbled collection of tangible stops. "Who has time for all that landing and taking off? I was forced to fasten myself! In any way I could!"
"I am an errand boy!" Tarot yelled. "I run the errands and I only, ONLY, polish with Traxwax twice a day as it says upon the packaging!"
"Well!" Vincent hissed with a gleam in his eye. "WAX THIS!"
"OH WAIT!" Tarot stepped forwards with his arms up just as Vincent bent down with a rumble of a cry, reached between his legs, grabbed the broom end (which, Vincent had to admit, was extremely polished, so polished that he was firstly: afraid his hands would slide off, and secondly: reminded of his bald Uncle Barnaby who was in desperate need of a good polishing product) and pulled as hard as his jiggly arms would allow.
"PERSEPINE!"
Vincent howled in pain. In one surprisingly swift motion, the broom, his trousers, his underpants, and a small portion of his skin all went hurtling up into the air.
"Flumpering lumberjacks!" Vincent squealed. He slowly reached around and touched the patch of raw skin. "Quick!" he called out to Tarot. "Do a healing spell!"
Tarot, in a motion not unlike that of a movie villain, casually flung his hand out to the side, almost without thinking, and caught his falling, splintered, now-bent broom. "May the wrath of a thousand tiny flea-infested ants roam your body and leave you with no peace until your parting day on this earth. And what of healing ointments you must surely try? They will fail! THEY ALL WILL FAIL YOU!"
Vincent blinked in rapid succession. "That's a funny sounding healing spell."
Tarot looked as if he would snap like an overly-tall, overly-autumn, severely orange twig. His hands clenched in rage and his whole body shook with what could have been a silent curse of intent or an extreme urge to line dance, but was most likely just a fit of intense rage towards this man who had half his bum showing in public.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I HAVE NURTURED THIS FINE SPECIMEN OF WOOD?!" Tarot shouted.
"Well, err, I would guess-"
"LONGER THAN YOU HAVE EVER SPENT SITTING ON A TOILET! OR PRUNING YOUR CACTUS! OR TAKING PART IN ALL THE OTHER IMPOSSIBLE THINGS YOU DO AT FOUR FIFTY-EIGHT IN THE AM YOU ALTERNATIVE TANDY BARN OWL!"
"Pruning my-?"
Tarot raised his arms, his eyes wide, his hair flying about his head, for some reason, as if an invisible hair dryer was blowing in his face, and he opened his mouth.
Vincent cringed into himself with his hands still covering his bottom. He was sure that Tarot would spout a curse so horrible it would be like the time Vincent had to spend the summer with his Aunt Millistein in the town of Harrowsbay Shore. The entire occasion had been spent either eating boiled cabbage with cashew nuts in, or playing backgammon on a board made from an old man's termite-ridden kitchen cabinet door, and every morning Vincent would come downstairs to find disturbingly large holes chewed out where his own checkers had been.
"WHAT ARE YOU DILL BATONS DOING DOWN THERE?"
The high-pitched shrill of a woman tore Vincent out of his disturbing memory. He opened one eye. Had Tarot's curse somehow backfired and turned him into a female? Come to think of it, Vincent hadn't heard Tarot say anything at all. Maybe he was one of those accomplished lot who could do magic in their heads. Yes, that was it.
Tarot was frowning up at a woman leaning out of a fourth story window.
"AS IS YOUR ORDER, YOUNG MAIDEN FROM THE EAST-" he called up to her while performing an elaborate bow, but she cut him off.
"Oh you're so old fashioned you make my glass slippers cry!" the woman snorted and waved the drink she was holding precariously over her window ledge. "Go read a book! But before you do that, come in and watch me charm my squash tree."
*
6^^^^6
v<(* ___*)>v
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#
Saturday, 17 June 2017
How do we all shatter into different tiny pieces?
Rose tried very hard to back away but knocked into a chair. Her legs were long and pale and not at all used to running. They weren't even used to moving freely. Her body was like a sack filled with bulky potatoes; her mind blank as though blown clean of intelligent activity; her soul hungry but her heart taking over...
Wasn't that the destruction of all things? The heart?
She put her arms over her face. Not again. Please... I'm so tired.
A sob broke free and the soft pink smoke took up residence once more, filling every crevice of her mind with urges and whispers.
~
Eden kicked out aimlessly and let her leg fall back to the other one, staring at the mark on her shoe. Had that always been there? Or-
"Get yer wig on!" came a voice and she felt something suddenly on her head. A year eleven was ruffling her hair.
"Hey-!" she jerked back.
He grinned at her as he sauntered past, gave her the tick sign, and turned away, catching the sunlight streaming in from the windows.
Eden gasped. "Jared!" she called out after him.
The boy turned.
"You've got something on your face," Eden pointed to her own cheek, "Just here."
Jared grinned and then laughed.
"No, you do."
She squinted- was it? It had to be, she'd spent all morning looking at it- yes, he had a smear of fairy dust shining black and blue on his right cheek. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Just here-" she called again, a little frantically, but he laughed her off, turned, and walked into an open locker door.
Oh.
"Fuck!"
Eden spun around and ran.
~
Brandi looked down at the note in her hand. The envelope felt like it was worth one hundred dollars exactly. It was thick, creamy white with a shine to it like proper wedding invite envelopes; like there was a piece of parchment inside asking her to high tea with someone royal.
Her heart fluttered for no reason as she knew what it was.
She slid the envelope open and watched her long, thin fingers pull out a small, black, square card with white writing scrawled on one side.
"North wall. Five up seventeen across. Laters be cut." Brandi read out-loud. Laters be cut? she thought with a frown. The wind chased strands of her hair about in front of her face so it really did look like the words had been cut, but what did that mean?
She blew out a breath and looked across at the school gate, her heart still wild and her hair tasting like caramel for some reason. One thing could be said about Deeta: he wasn't as cryptic as he thought he was.
~
"You don't put Amorath in with Emerald, the effects are far too great," Alyssa said with a hint of exasperation and, once again, crossed out Frances's handwriting and scribbled in her own.
"Amorath? I didn't say Amorath-"
"It's right here, look 'Am- oh..." she brought the notebook closer to her face.
"Careful!"
Alyssa felt Frances pull her out of harms way but she was too busy to pay much attention. "Allium?"
"I wrote Amomum, it's cardamom," Frances said around her lollipop.
Alyssa rolled her eyes, "We're not using proper names, Frances! Just put Cardamom in!"
"It's for code purposes!"
"Jeez. Anyway-" she ran her eyes down the page. There were a lot of errors. She had no hope of fixing it all in the next five minutes. She could feel her hands start to shake and her chest tighten at the very thought.
"Come on Aly, we're running out of time."
"Ok! Ok... umm, do you have the potion?"
Frances took out a small bottle from her skirt pocket that was filled with green liquid. "And I have the incantation." She held up a tightly rolled piece of paper tied with string that had been artistically burned at both edges.
"Good, ok. Let's go behind that tree."
Shielded from the main road, Alyssa dropped two light blue pills into Frances's outstretched hand and took two herself.
Relief flooded her body like a burst water balloon.
~
Wasn't that the destruction of all things? The heart?
She put her arms over her face. Not again. Please... I'm so tired.
A sob broke free and the soft pink smoke took up residence once more, filling every crevice of her mind with urges and whispers.
~
Eden kicked out aimlessly and let her leg fall back to the other one, staring at the mark on her shoe. Had that always been there? Or-
"Get yer wig on!" came a voice and she felt something suddenly on her head. A year eleven was ruffling her hair.
"Hey-!" she jerked back.
He grinned at her as he sauntered past, gave her the tick sign, and turned away, catching the sunlight streaming in from the windows.
Eden gasped. "Jared!" she called out after him.
The boy turned.
"You've got something on your face," Eden pointed to her own cheek, "Just here."
Jared grinned and then laughed.
"No, you do."
She squinted- was it? It had to be, she'd spent all morning looking at it- yes, he had a smear of fairy dust shining black and blue on his right cheek. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Just here-" she called again, a little frantically, but he laughed her off, turned, and walked into an open locker door.
Oh.
"Fuck!"
Eden spun around and ran.
~
Brandi looked down at the note in her hand. The envelope felt like it was worth one hundred dollars exactly. It was thick, creamy white with a shine to it like proper wedding invite envelopes; like there was a piece of parchment inside asking her to high tea with someone royal.
Her heart fluttered for no reason as she knew what it was.
She slid the envelope open and watched her long, thin fingers pull out a small, black, square card with white writing scrawled on one side.
"North wall. Five up seventeen across. Laters be cut." Brandi read out-loud. Laters be cut? she thought with a frown. The wind chased strands of her hair about in front of her face so it really did look like the words had been cut, but what did that mean?
She blew out a breath and looked across at the school gate, her heart still wild and her hair tasting like caramel for some reason. One thing could be said about Deeta: he wasn't as cryptic as he thought he was.
~
"You don't put Amorath in with Emerald, the effects are far too great," Alyssa said with a hint of exasperation and, once again, crossed out Frances's handwriting and scribbled in her own.
"Amorath? I didn't say Amorath-"
"It's right here, look 'Am- oh..." she brought the notebook closer to her face.
"Careful!"
Alyssa felt Frances pull her out of harms way but she was too busy to pay much attention. "Allium?"
"I wrote Amomum, it's cardamom," Frances said around her lollipop.
Alyssa rolled her eyes, "We're not using proper names, Frances! Just put Cardamom in!"
"It's for code purposes!"
"Jeez. Anyway-" she ran her eyes down the page. There were a lot of errors. She had no hope of fixing it all in the next five minutes. She could feel her hands start to shake and her chest tighten at the very thought.
"Come on Aly, we're running out of time."
"Ok! Ok... umm, do you have the potion?"
Frances took out a small bottle from her skirt pocket that was filled with green liquid. "And I have the incantation." She held up a tightly rolled piece of paper tied with string that had been artistically burned at both edges.
"Good, ok. Let's go behind that tree."
Shielded from the main road, Alyssa dropped two light blue pills into Frances's outstretched hand and took two herself.
Relief flooded her body like a burst water balloon.
~
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