If someone says they were trying to fill a hole, don’t assume that hole was your absence. More likely it’s a dent in their ego.
Do you know what gets bigger the more you take out of it?
That person will always end up shoveling dirt.
*
Decided
It’s degradation, above all else, that makes death dire
*
Mission tree-love
We have a potted tree on the balcony of our flat, I’m not sure exactly what it is but it did alright for months. Now it’s getting warmer and the sun is starting to make itself known the tree has started to die.
I’m making it my mission to save this drying shrub. If I succeed, I will be so ruddy chuffed. If I fail… hmm, no, I won’t fail.
I’m giving it plenty of attention and love. This feels like something a psychiatrist would recommend. I’m investing part of myself in this, it could be the start of something beautiful. Who knows how green my fingers could be, I could be an earth mother, people will respect my natural command, I can see it now; “There goes the mighty Kyla, they say she sleeps on a bough with a pillow of nettles… But they don’t sting her because they respect her so…” It starts with one potted tree on a balcony, give it a year and I’ll be saving the Amazon. There will be films made about me. And my original potted tree will be the symbol of my power, forever with me, wherever I go. I’ll save Africa. The arid soils of drought-ridden lands cracking as tendrils burst through them, the giraffes will develop constant grins of satisfaction, new species of super-plant will evolve and be used to cure all major illnesses. I’ll eradicate cancer. I’ll bring back the Dodo…
Watch this space…
*
Katie & Peter Stateside…
Ahh, the next next chapter, and just when you thought they couldn’t make anything any bigger, they go large, to the land of lies dressed as opportunities: AMERRRRICAAH!
I’m no fan of either of these loaded chavs, but there is something irresistibly entertaining about watching them play up to the cameras in their undeniably trashy manner. If the Brits have one thing nailed it’s the ability to poke fun at themselves, and if you take this show with an appropriately large measure of salt then you can sink into subjective voyeuristic pleasure.
The last series of Katie & Peter contained a little nugget of pure Andre gold, which I have stored in that special place in my mind, to be brought to the forefront whenever I fancy a guaranteed chuckle: The couple were at Sea World and Katie was in one of her usual bad moods. Peter vocalised his frustration with his wife by turning to the cameras and saying “How can you be angry here? I mean, it’s Sea World… It’s a world of sea!” Classic.
And the new series seems set to continue in a similarly ridiculous fashion. Some special moments from the first episode:
Peter: Junior, say ‘Obama’
Junior: Ohh bummer
Peter telling his son “I’m a man” followed by Junior telling him he has a fat nose and fat eyes.
Peter describing Katie’s mood swings: “pre menstrual, post menstrual, menstrual, anti menstrual… that didn’t make sense but, like, hello… menstrual.”
And then there are the several impersonations of Dr Evil from Peter, rather oddly lacking in context. He seems to slide into this character every so often when he turns to the camera to soliloquise. Strange.
*
Posted in television
What is wrong with people?
I was sat at the bus stop earlier, making sure not to sit too close to the disgusting lump of god-knows-what that was stuck on the bench. A woman walked over to sit down. Let me tell you that this woman appeared normal. There was no crazed glare, no demented chattering and no apparent delirium. Upon noticing the gooey splodge, she leant forwards. She then poked it with her finger so it smeared slightly across the bench in a sort of foamy beige smudge. Then she decided not to sit down.
WHO DOES THAT!?!
Oh look, there is something truly revolting on this public seating, I shall stick my own finger into it. …
NO!
WHY?
I just cannot understand why! At the very least, use a stick or some similar poking device. But a finger!? … really?
I winced and swallowed down my own vomit.
Shocking.
*
Derelict
I’m not living in this house anymore,
I shat on my doorstep and pissed on the floor,
board up the windows, let’s lock all the doors,
I don’t want to live in this house anymore
*
problem – solution
When I was younger, I used to put things into boxes. I would lie in my bed and think about what was troubling me, and if it was really holding me back and affecting me too much, I imagined a box. A big box or an old wooden chest. The box is sort of in space. But less than space, it was in nothing but more than nothing. More than nothing and less than space. I put my problem into the box. I closed the box. I locked the box. Maybe I’d wrap a chain around the box and lock that too. Big fat padlocks. Loads of them, according to the size of the problem. Then I exploded the box, and just to make sure I had really got rid of all evidence of the problem; I sucked all the exploded bits inwards and imploded them. I sucked them inside the fabric of the universe (but less than the universe, so they didn’t exist even in some alternate dimension).
And then I went to sleep.
Good night
*
