Lately my writing time has been soaked up by a lot of other
shi stuff in my life. It’s not the best excuse but it’s the one I’m using. I really wish I had more time to write because it’s the one thing that prevents me from kicking random strangers and/or colleagues. The other thing is coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I’ve had more than one anxiety attack lately because my life has been hectic. Just last week I was googling my symptoms on WebMD and I was either having a mini-stroke or just very hungry.
I have two kids. *The crowd goes silence in suspense* These kids are getting older by the minute. *The audience gasps at another shocking revelation*. They will be leaving the house soon. *Audience members are leaving as the suspense is becoming too much to bear* Continue reading
A long, long time ago in an era where poking friends implied a sexual activity and not something you do with fake friends on a social platform. Or when twitter was the sound made by a sick bird and not something I could waste several hours on, there was a skinny squire with mousy hair and a stunning personality. He was invited to a ball and at some point during the festivities he saw her sitting in the kitchen, watching a magical talking bird. He politely asked if he could join her because his parents didn’t raise an ape. She blushed and agreed, so he sat down eagerly and over the course of an hour, she stole his heart. And has never bothered to return it to him.
a flower for an angel
Everybody in the land was joyous and happy when they announced their plans to exchange vows two years later. He looked semi-dashing in a green blazer and she looked fucking amazing in an exquisite white wedding dress, as she waltzed down the isle. He was (and still is) flabbergasted. Continue reading
I got a window seat because I love to fold my legs behind my ears in order to sit comfortably on a plane. All the isle seats were taken and like every other flight I’ve taken in Australia, this one was packed too. The couple took both seats next to mine. Fortunately she chose the middle seat and being small and petite, I knew there wasn’t going to be a lot of in-flight wrestling about the arm rest. That thing was mine, bitch!
They were attractive in an Abercrombie and Fitch kind of way. All smug and groomed and pretty. She wasn’t ugly either. I have to admit, I wasn’t paying that much attention to them, as I was already halfway through Episode 5 of Stranger Things which, for those of you who is still living under a rock, is frigging awesome! (You need to binge watch it today. It will blow your mind and I want to adopt those kids. Especially the chubby one.) Geeks have never been so cool. Well, present company excluded, off course. Continue reading
A gorgeous girl and a Dad trying to look cool.
I walked down the corridor with gift bags and a cup of coffee. Wife was right behind me carrying a small tray with a mug of hot chocolate and a candlelit cupcake. Dude almost carried himself. Fortunately we have walls that guide him in a straight line to where he has to go. I switched on the light and hidden between layers of duvets and blankets, she appeared with a gorgeous smile on her face.
“Happy birthday to you…” we sang awfully. It was six-o-clock in the morning and it was evident that our ability to carry a simple tune was still asleep.
The day arrived, like it does every year. Continue reading
Humanity has a knack for celebrating greatness. We love heroes. We like to honour men and women who are able to transcend their existence on this spinning blue ball and achieve a persona of some semi-celestial beings. Like angels and saints and saviors.
We glorify them with awards, honorary degrees and street names. In some countries they bow before the queen and after she hits them with a sword on the shoulder, they’re called “sir”. In other countries where democracy has been adopted for a century or two, a medal is pinned to their lapel after they’ve shaken hands with the president. We simply adore people who inspire us, people who make us believe in the potential of the human race. People who provide us with a glimmer of hope in the darkest of days. Those few who rise to the occasion when the occasion warrants us to rise. Continue reading
Dude introduced me to this song, which should tell you a few things. (1) My son is developing a taste in music that makes Dad sit upright and take notice. (2) Dad is starting to rely on son to teach him what’s cool and what’s not as being forty-one is obviously not. Cool. And I’m down with that.
A life packed in three boxes, one cupboard left. I found it in the back, the unopened pink envelope. I’m probably going to hell, so I read it anyway.
It was a declaration of love from a dying man. An outpour of scribbled letters painting a picture of a life shared. An honest, sincere apology that touched my heart. I gave it to Lucille, wiping the moisture from my cheeks. I watch her face and saw the tiny sparkles of tears in her eyes.
We looked at one another. No words. We embraced whilst she sobbed silently. I stood helpless, as tragedy filled the tiny room and settled amongst the boxes. Gran never read this. Maybe she would have forgiven him, been less cynical about life.
Maybe she wouldn’t have died with a broken heart.
This was the latest assignment of Writing 101 and it challenged me in two ways (1) It’s fictional and (2) Short. I would like to consider this my first mental back-flip.
They were sitting in a light blue Nissan sedan, that had a rope tied to the boot, preventing it from opening erratically, whilst driving. He was twitching, a little more than usual and clearing his throat, somewhat unnaturally. The nervous tension was as tangible as the bunch of red roses she was holding. A minute passed and it was clear that he had a heavy heart as his voice trembled when he finally spoke.
“I know we’ve only met two weeks ago and you don’t really know me yet. But I was thinking that we might as well get to know one other as a couple, you know, like if we started dating exclusively? What do you think?” Continue reading
(Not sure who got the Game of Thrones reference. It means Mother…)
My wife had a boyfriend before we met. Probably a perfect example of a human’s posterior. And here’s proof. He made her a mix tape for she loooved Roxette, and especially the one song Dangerous. Kudos that he knew that, but instead of buying her the album, he made her a mix tape with that one song over and over and over. See, I told you he was a real ass. And that’s why she dumped him. (Technically, he moved out of town, but I like to think she dumped him.) And then she met me. And she’s never been happier. (Again, something I like to tell myself.) Continue reading