An entry for The Friday Challenge
I was working late, again. Eating left over pizza for dinner, it was cold but I didn’t mind. There is something satisfying about cold pizza. It was already dark outside and most of the afternoon rush had dispersed. By that time of the night there aren’t too many people walking the streets below my office.
The fluro’s from the convenience store across the street flickered making the street, which during the day looks respectable, look decrepit and run down. Like something out of a low budget horror film. Two teenagers stood out the front smoking; both of them were laughing and pointing to something I couldn’t quite see. I think it was my desire to be young forever but I wanted see what they were laughing at. I got up from my desk and walked over to another office to a get a better view of the street.
It was a homeless man digging around in a bin. I sighed and I my shoulders sunk slightly; I always forget there are reasons behind why we grow up, one of them being so that we don’t make fun of those less fortunate than us. I looked at him for a short time wondering what had happened to him. Did he have a family? Friends? Were there underlying issues that could have been treated? I heard mental health is usually a problem with the homeless.
Just as I was turning I noticed something slightly out of place with the homeless man. His shoes were spotless. Brand new Nike sneakers, the kind of Nike sneakers I pestered my mum for me when I was growing up. Homeless people don’t often have brand new sneakers. I stood staring at him for a while longer. I began to notice other things about him that were slightly off.
His hair had blonde streaks in it. I’m no expert on the homeless, but I am fairly sure they don’t see hair stylists. The dirt on his face also looked odd. Like, it was perfect dirt. Well placed. Paint even?
Was this guy a fake?
It then became clear that this whole time he hadn’t actually been looking into the bin he was supposedly rummaging through. He was looking across the street to my building; to the level below me, the ground level. He froze.
Stared straight ahead.
He’d seen something.
Then, like startled rabbit he was off. Running towards my building, my heart stopped just for a moment. Surely he wasn’t coming in here. There was nothing in there worthwhile. I pressed my head against the glass in a vain attempt to see where he had gone. But I couldn’t. I stepped back from the window and looked at the cold pizza in my hand. At least I knew where that would be going.
I walked back to my desk and sat down looking out onto the street again. The teenagers were gone. I sighed and took a bite of my pizza. Then I heard a sound.
There was someone at the door...
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Can't write... Clown'll eat me
It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. Or that I don’t have any stories to tell. I have many, too many, even. It doesn’t take much to get my mind ticking over and my imagination racing. It’s just sometimes I don’t have any words. I sit and I stare and nothing comes out. The images in my head are vivid and colourful, but they are only images. Transforming them from a picture in my mind to words on a page just doesn’t always happen…
The reason?
Too much thinking.
Not enough writing.
It’s like I’m apprehensive of my own thoughts. Being nervous about what I am writing when I am my own audience. Sounds ridiculous, but I’m sure I’m not the only one.
Two words have helped me overcome this. They are always the last two words I think of before I write. A simple phrase…
‘Just write’.
The reason?
Too much thinking.
Not enough writing.
It’s like I’m apprehensive of my own thoughts. Being nervous about what I am writing when I am my own audience. Sounds ridiculous, but I’m sure I’m not the only one.
Two words have helped me overcome this. They are always the last two words I think of before I write. A simple phrase…
‘Just write’.
Friday, January 7, 2011
The Most Unforgettable Christmas Gift Ever
Christmas 1997 and an excited Watkinson lay’s in bed waiting anxiously for the rest of the house hold to wake up. That’s what you did at my house at Christmas time. Everyone in the house had to be awake before you could open your presents. I was the youngest child by ten years, so I was forever the first one awake and the first one waiting. My usual routine was to be awake at 5 o’clock in the morning and wake everyone up in the house so I could open my presents. This year I had decided to stay in bed. Mainly because my eldest brother had told me I would cop it if I woke him up this year. So fear kept me in bed and in bed I stayed.
There I lay, waiting. What was in that beautiful red pillow case? I had dreams of a Nintendo or Sega, but I knew was far from the case. It was never the case. As I grew older I learnt it would never be the case. You don’t get expensive presents in my house; you get lots of smaller ones that equal the same amount. My mother seems to have an issue with one large present, I think it’s because the Santa sack doesn’t look as jumbled. I was 6 at the time I think, but I had long known about the deal with Santa, you know the one how he’s not real. It’s actually your parents buying the stuff. When you have older brothers, nothing is sacred. While we’re on the subject, does anyone else have an issue with parents starting your life with lies? Yes I understand it’s supposed harmless, and it’s all about getting into the spirit. But I crushed a few kids in the playground by telling them the truth. Perhaps it’s how we teach our children to deal with disappointment?
Anyway, I knew where the good stuff came from anyway. Leading up Christmas I would write lists of what I wanted and leave laying around strategically. Like on Mum’s bed or next to the TV remote. You know, real subtle like. X-Men action figures, Lego, Toxic Avenger, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles… the list really does go on and on.
And there I lay. I pictured a full set of the X-Men and envisioned them all lined up on my desk like an army. I saw a Lego fortresses squaring off for a battle of epic proportions. It was almost too much for me to handle. But then I heard it. Someone else was awake. As nimble as a cat I leapt out of bed to see who it was. Just my parents, but I could hear my brothers talking to each other. This was it! Truly the best thing about Christmas for a 6 year old was present time. Rushed to the lounge room and sat next to my red pillow case. To be honest my exact memories of this event are a little hazy. But eventually we were all in the lounge room and rifling through our pillow cases. Always keeping a watchful eye on what my brothers were pull out of their pillow cases. Usually what they had was not interesting at all, they were teenagers. They had things like cologne, t-shirts, CDs and books. Pfft to that I say!
So I am rummaging through my bag, finding all the little goodies. There are smaller toys coming out at the top; miniature figurines, smaller Lego and most likely a ball some description. But I knew the prize would be at the bottom. It was always at the bottom. I stretched my little arm as far as it could go. Those pillow cases seemed bottomless when I was kid. I could almost get my whole body inside them. I could feel it though. The cardboard box. The plastic shielding on the front. Only the best toys were packaged that way. I remember pulling it out slowly…
I was shocked… the pink packaging, the swirly design. I knew exactly what it. It was a Barbie. My mother had bought me a Barbie. A Barbie was definitely not on any list. Right then, that became my worst Christmas. My mother had bought me a Barbie doll for my main Christmas present. All my dreams of the amazing toys I could have gotten my hands on… down the drain. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, my brothers were making jokes about my sexuality. Many, many a joke about it.
When the shops opened a few days later Mum took me to K-Mart and let me pick my own present, thankfully. I will probably never forgive her for that, not entirely. She claims that I used to play with my cousins Barbie dolls and that is why she got me one. My theory is that she lives with too many males. Between my Dad, me and my two brothers there really wasn’t anything girly happening in the house. My eldest brother agrees with me. He says it was an attempt to either help me embrace my feminine side, or just flat out turn me gay. Unfortunately for her it doesn’t really work that way. It is the most unforgettable Christmas gift I have gotten, but probably the best story.
Entry for The Friday Challenge
There I lay, waiting. What was in that beautiful red pillow case? I had dreams of a Nintendo or Sega, but I knew was far from the case. It was never the case. As I grew older I learnt it would never be the case. You don’t get expensive presents in my house; you get lots of smaller ones that equal the same amount. My mother seems to have an issue with one large present, I think it’s because the Santa sack doesn’t look as jumbled. I was 6 at the time I think, but I had long known about the deal with Santa, you know the one how he’s not real. It’s actually your parents buying the stuff. When you have older brothers, nothing is sacred. While we’re on the subject, does anyone else have an issue with parents starting your life with lies? Yes I understand it’s supposed harmless, and it’s all about getting into the spirit. But I crushed a few kids in the playground by telling them the truth. Perhaps it’s how we teach our children to deal with disappointment?
Anyway, I knew where the good stuff came from anyway. Leading up Christmas I would write lists of what I wanted and leave laying around strategically. Like on Mum’s bed or next to the TV remote. You know, real subtle like. X-Men action figures, Lego, Toxic Avenger, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles… the list really does go on and on.
And there I lay. I pictured a full set of the X-Men and envisioned them all lined up on my desk like an army. I saw a Lego fortresses squaring off for a battle of epic proportions. It was almost too much for me to handle. But then I heard it. Someone else was awake. As nimble as a cat I leapt out of bed to see who it was. Just my parents, but I could hear my brothers talking to each other. This was it! Truly the best thing about Christmas for a 6 year old was present time. Rushed to the lounge room and sat next to my red pillow case. To be honest my exact memories of this event are a little hazy. But eventually we were all in the lounge room and rifling through our pillow cases. Always keeping a watchful eye on what my brothers were pull out of their pillow cases. Usually what they had was not interesting at all, they were teenagers. They had things like cologne, t-shirts, CDs and books. Pfft to that I say!
So I am rummaging through my bag, finding all the little goodies. There are smaller toys coming out at the top; miniature figurines, smaller Lego and most likely a ball some description. But I knew the prize would be at the bottom. It was always at the bottom. I stretched my little arm as far as it could go. Those pillow cases seemed bottomless when I was kid. I could almost get my whole body inside them. I could feel it though. The cardboard box. The plastic shielding on the front. Only the best toys were packaged that way. I remember pulling it out slowly…
I was shocked… the pink packaging, the swirly design. I knew exactly what it. It was a Barbie. My mother had bought me a Barbie. A Barbie was definitely not on any list. Right then, that became my worst Christmas. My mother had bought me a Barbie doll for my main Christmas present. All my dreams of the amazing toys I could have gotten my hands on… down the drain. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, my brothers were making jokes about my sexuality. Many, many a joke about it.
When the shops opened a few days later Mum took me to K-Mart and let me pick my own present, thankfully. I will probably never forgive her for that, not entirely. She claims that I used to play with my cousins Barbie dolls and that is why she got me one. My theory is that she lives with too many males. Between my Dad, me and my two brothers there really wasn’t anything girly happening in the house. My eldest brother agrees with me. He says it was an attempt to either help me embrace my feminine side, or just flat out turn me gay. Unfortunately for her it doesn’t really work that way. It is the most unforgettable Christmas gift I have gotten, but probably the best story.
Entry for The Friday Challenge
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Holiday Parody Song - Old Nick
Jolly old Saint Nicholas
Lean your ear this way!
Don’t tell a single soul;
What I’m about to say,
Christmas Eve is coming soon;
And he’ll be on the piss,
Talking loud and falling down;
He won’t be hard to miss!
When the clock is striking twelve;
He’ll striking out,
All that beer and scotch;
No amount of cookies can help him out,
Stumbling round a stranger’s house;
Certainly a sight to see,
The stockings are presents;
Definitely not for pee!
Dad’s awake because of the ruckus;
Cricket bat in hand,
He stands at the door with a look of shock;
A jolly fat man was headed for land,
On his back and in his jocks;
He’s been involved with too many activities,
Down and out, old Santa Claus;
He’s going to miss all the festivities!
Original Song
Relating Friday Challenge
Lean your ear this way!
Don’t tell a single soul;
What I’m about to say,
Christmas Eve is coming soon;
And he’ll be on the piss,
Talking loud and falling down;
He won’t be hard to miss!
When the clock is striking twelve;
He’ll striking out,
All that beer and scotch;
No amount of cookies can help him out,
Stumbling round a stranger’s house;
Certainly a sight to see,
The stockings are presents;
Definitely not for pee!
Dad’s awake because of the ruckus;
Cricket bat in hand,
He stands at the door with a look of shock;
A jolly fat man was headed for land,
On his back and in his jocks;
He’s been involved with too many activities,
Down and out, old Santa Claus;
He’s going to miss all the festivities!
Original Song
Relating Friday Challenge
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Just one tiny, practically insignificant change...
Now, because almost all historical information mentioned in this challenge I didn’t know about*, mainly because American history isn’t huge in Australian schools, my story is based on the Phillipines as I do know a little about this.
In 1965 after 400 years of Spanish rule a rebellion to liberate the Filipino people erupts. During a ceremony to commemorate the 400 years rule 1000’s of Filipinos rose up and took control of the government. The Spanish king was there to help with the celebration and was taken hostage, the ransom – Freedom for the Philippines.
Spain reacts by condemning the Filipinos and declares war on them. Australia and a majority of South-East Asia stand behind The Philippines, although no European countries support Spain because almost all of their empires have fallen as well. This standoff results in the Philippines becoming its own country, returning the king without harm, embracing its traditional culture and eventually creating a huge tourist scene. By the mid 80’s the Philippines is booming and it has become a holiday spot for the rich people of the western world. A new leader is voted in and begins to change some things about the way the country is run. The main changes being: the legalisation of drugs, introduction of government funding gambling houses, unrestricted prostitution and large amounts of funding to military.
In a speech by this leader at the Millennium celebration she describes how she plans to expand The Philippines and unite South-East Asia and Australasia under one banner. Although in the speech she describes this unification as one of diplomacy, it becomes apparent to those countries that refuse that the response to non-compliance is invasion. While some of the poorer, less developed countries were immediately interested in joining there was a number of them were not. This created a divide. My thinking is that there would Australia, Indonesia, New Zealand and possibly Papua New Guinea on one side and the rest of South East Asia on the other.
This is where my mind has stopped. I’m home sick from work and my brain isn’t communication to my hands too well. Tossing up the idea of there being no WW2 only a WW1, which is very different to our WW1, a peace treaty is signed banning all projectile weapons. Implementation of new rules of war such as: only hand held weapons, swords, knives, hand to hand. That’s just a thought though. But anyway that’s my idea for this. I
*Including the American-Spanish War, I know. That’s bad. But I’m Generation Y so I don’t care. I just get drunk and have no morals.
In 1965 after 400 years of Spanish rule a rebellion to liberate the Filipino people erupts. During a ceremony to commemorate the 400 years rule 1000’s of Filipinos rose up and took control of the government. The Spanish king was there to help with the celebration and was taken hostage, the ransom – Freedom for the Philippines.
Spain reacts by condemning the Filipinos and declares war on them. Australia and a majority of South-East Asia stand behind The Philippines, although no European countries support Spain because almost all of their empires have fallen as well. This standoff results in the Philippines becoming its own country, returning the king without harm, embracing its traditional culture and eventually creating a huge tourist scene. By the mid 80’s the Philippines is booming and it has become a holiday spot for the rich people of the western world. A new leader is voted in and begins to change some things about the way the country is run. The main changes being: the legalisation of drugs, introduction of government funding gambling houses, unrestricted prostitution and large amounts of funding to military.
In a speech by this leader at the Millennium celebration she describes how she plans to expand The Philippines and unite South-East Asia and Australasia under one banner. Although in the speech she describes this unification as one of diplomacy, it becomes apparent to those countries that refuse that the response to non-compliance is invasion. While some of the poorer, less developed countries were immediately interested in joining there was a number of them were not. This created a divide. My thinking is that there would Australia, Indonesia, New Zealand and possibly Papua New Guinea on one side and the rest of South East Asia on the other.
This is where my mind has stopped. I’m home sick from work and my brain isn’t communication to my hands too well. Tossing up the idea of there being no WW2 only a WW1, which is very different to our WW1, a peace treaty is signed banning all projectile weapons. Implementation of new rules of war such as: only hand held weapons, swords, knives, hand to hand. That’s just a thought though. But anyway that’s my idea for this. I
*Including the American-Spanish War, I know. That’s bad. But I’m Generation Y so I don’t care. I just get drunk and have no morals.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Summertime on the Peninsula
For me summer is a long remembered dream. It’s winter in Adelaide, South Australia. Well, in actual fact it’s the start of spring. We were forecast 20mm to 40mm. It’s looking like 60mm. The depot is not the most popular place with the best of weather. Now nobody comes. Nobody rings. Nobody wants a container. Not today.
The rain is getting heavier. Although I am a winter person and I do love the rain. It relaxes me and reminds me of health, vitality and rebirth. I can’t help but to betray those feelings for a longing for sunshine. Even just the slightest amount. The beginning of summer is always the bet where I live. Warm air and slightly cool breezes. Everybody is out of the houses and soaking in the sun after the long haul of winter. Even more so in the summer to come, as our winter this year has been very wet and very cold. We have missed the rains during our long drought, but the grass is always greener.
I long to see people outside exercising, seeing friends and family, drinking on the beach, firing up the crappy electric BBQ’s supplied by the council. Always out and about, things to do, people to see. Friday nights are always a local affair. To a friend’s house, to the local night clubs and bars, even the occasional stranger’s party. They are never truly strangers though. You either went to school with them or know some who did. Everybody is welcome. Saturday’s relaxing at the beach or at a mate’s place, so long as he got a pool or an air con and a Playstation.
Saturday night, that’s when it happens. People from every suburb, every area, all converge on the city centre. Hindley St, Rundle St, Light Square… anywhere there’s a pub or a club. The city is alive. The streets are its veins and the people its blood. North, South, East and West. They all come. They all love it. They all complain about it on Monday morning. But they all go back. I love it. Summer nights in the city, drinking cold beers outside where ever you can, as late as you can, then heading inside to dance the early mornings away. When the night is slowly turning into day, Vodka, soda and fresh lime, is best for those times.
Walking out of a club on Sunday morning with the Sun coming up, feelings of regret, excitement and anger… anger because once again you didn’t bring your sunglasses with you. Like you tell yourself you will every week. Then the epic quest to find a taxi home, you can never find one. But you need it, you need your bed to sleep the rest of the morning off.
Sundays are the best days. Relaxing, seeing friends, watching DVD’s, reading a book. Whatever you want. Dreading work the next day but enjoying the last few hours of the weekend. Summer is a good time where I live. I love it, music, drinks, BBQ’s, friends and family… let alone the festivals that come with it. But that is a story for another time. That is summer for me.
But right now, its winter and it’s cold. My toes are almost numb here in the depot office. The phone still hasn’t rung and I still have the same amount of containers. This is winter at the depot. Summer is just around the corner and I can’t wait.
The rain is getting heavier. Although I am a winter person and I do love the rain. It relaxes me and reminds me of health, vitality and rebirth. I can’t help but to betray those feelings for a longing for sunshine. Even just the slightest amount. The beginning of summer is always the bet where I live. Warm air and slightly cool breezes. Everybody is out of the houses and soaking in the sun after the long haul of winter. Even more so in the summer to come, as our winter this year has been very wet and very cold. We have missed the rains during our long drought, but the grass is always greener.
I long to see people outside exercising, seeing friends and family, drinking on the beach, firing up the crappy electric BBQ’s supplied by the council. Always out and about, things to do, people to see. Friday nights are always a local affair. To a friend’s house, to the local night clubs and bars, even the occasional stranger’s party. They are never truly strangers though. You either went to school with them or know some who did. Everybody is welcome. Saturday’s relaxing at the beach or at a mate’s place, so long as he got a pool or an air con and a Playstation.
Saturday night, that’s when it happens. People from every suburb, every area, all converge on the city centre. Hindley St, Rundle St, Light Square… anywhere there’s a pub or a club. The city is alive. The streets are its veins and the people its blood. North, South, East and West. They all come. They all love it. They all complain about it on Monday morning. But they all go back. I love it. Summer nights in the city, drinking cold beers outside where ever you can, as late as you can, then heading inside to dance the early mornings away. When the night is slowly turning into day, Vodka, soda and fresh lime, is best for those times.
Walking out of a club on Sunday morning with the Sun coming up, feelings of regret, excitement and anger… anger because once again you didn’t bring your sunglasses with you. Like you tell yourself you will every week. Then the epic quest to find a taxi home, you can never find one. But you need it, you need your bed to sleep the rest of the morning off.
Sundays are the best days. Relaxing, seeing friends, watching DVD’s, reading a book. Whatever you want. Dreading work the next day but enjoying the last few hours of the weekend. Summer is a good time where I live. I love it, music, drinks, BBQ’s, friends and family… let alone the festivals that come with it. But that is a story for another time. That is summer for me.
But right now, its winter and it’s cold. My toes are almost numb here in the depot office. The phone still hasn’t rung and I still have the same amount of containers. This is winter at the depot. Summer is just around the corner and I can’t wait.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Postcards With An Edge
Marcus,
I have just arrived in Hawker. It’s close to nowhere and very far away from anywhere else. Hope to leave for Wilpena Pound in the morning. It’s about an hour’s drive there, and then about 3 hours walk to the first Akurra site. Probably camp there for a few nights then come back. I have asked a few natives about Akurra and have been corrected for calling it the rainbow serpent. Apparently it’s different, same same but different. I hope to hire a local as a guide either today or in the morning. Also, none of the settlers want to discuss the rumoured sighting, which makes it hard to find anything out. There seems to be a strange rift between the natives and the settlers. There is a pub that has rooms to rent, hearty meals and cold beer. I’ll be staying there the days I am in town.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
I saw it! It was huge. I have never seen a serpent, or any creature, that size before. It came on the last night as we we’re preparing for bed. We heard it first. Then when Shamus, my guide, shined the spot light on it. We caught a glimpse of its face but it quickly turned as the light hit it and headed back the way it came. It was hard to tell how big it was, but it must have been over 40 metres long. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. It was beautiful. It left no tracks. I didn’t want to leave but we were running out of supplies. We will stay the night in town and head off again tomorrow, I need to see her again. Will speak to you soon.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
Shamus has disappeared. He became frustrated last night and decided to sleep away from the camp site. Only a few metres, but in the morning he was gone, although his belongings remained. The locals had warned us of cooking meat near the water sources, we had heeded their warnings, until last night. Shamus had bugged me for days, the brat. The settlers want to take revenge on Akurra, but the natives have warned them that she cannot be killed and will react violently. A group is heading out in the morning to attempt to kill her. I will be going with them, I will get evidence of her existence and I shall endeavour to persuade them not to go through with it.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
They are all dead. All who picked up arms against her were killed. I pleaded with them not to go, but in the end I cared not for them. I am the only one that saw it and lived. The creature mustn’t be harmed. I couldn’t allow it. She and I, we are linked. I will do anything to protect her. I have done everything to protect her. They brought this on themselves. I will not be returning.
Paul.
I have just arrived in Hawker. It’s close to nowhere and very far away from anywhere else. Hope to leave for Wilpena Pound in the morning. It’s about an hour’s drive there, and then about 3 hours walk to the first Akurra site. Probably camp there for a few nights then come back. I have asked a few natives about Akurra and have been corrected for calling it the rainbow serpent. Apparently it’s different, same same but different. I hope to hire a local as a guide either today or in the morning. Also, none of the settlers want to discuss the rumoured sighting, which makes it hard to find anything out. There seems to be a strange rift between the natives and the settlers. There is a pub that has rooms to rent, hearty meals and cold beer. I’ll be staying there the days I am in town.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
I saw it! It was huge. I have never seen a serpent, or any creature, that size before. It came on the last night as we we’re preparing for bed. We heard it first. Then when Shamus, my guide, shined the spot light on it. We caught a glimpse of its face but it quickly turned as the light hit it and headed back the way it came. It was hard to tell how big it was, but it must have been over 40 metres long. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. It was beautiful. It left no tracks. I didn’t want to leave but we were running out of supplies. We will stay the night in town and head off again tomorrow, I need to see her again. Will speak to you soon.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
Shamus has disappeared. He became frustrated last night and decided to sleep away from the camp site. Only a few metres, but in the morning he was gone, although his belongings remained. The locals had warned us of cooking meat near the water sources, we had heeded their warnings, until last night. Shamus had bugged me for days, the brat. The settlers want to take revenge on Akurra, but the natives have warned them that she cannot be killed and will react violently. A group is heading out in the morning to attempt to kill her. I will be going with them, I will get evidence of her existence and I shall endeavour to persuade them not to go through with it.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
They are all dead. All who picked up arms against her were killed. I pleaded with them not to go, but in the end I cared not for them. I am the only one that saw it and lived. The creature mustn’t be harmed. I couldn’t allow it. She and I, we are linked. I will do anything to protect her. I have done everything to protect her. They brought this on themselves. I will not be returning.
Paul.
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