Another Janky Blog

This blog is all about love, nuclear waste, chocolate fingers, puppies, shadows that reach, scraping metal, meals on wheels, running and screaming, sunshine, congealed blood, construction at home, silent operas, car accidents, the great unkown and pumpkin pie.

Love

What did it ever do for me? I'm sick of it. Call me!

There was this horrible accident, burning tires, the stench of gasoline threatening to explode, and I thought to myself who will wash these cuts? Who will set this leg and mind its mending?

The powerlines above me shook, and I did it my damn self.

Nuclear Waste

The ice crackling in a cocktail glass, once more a female shot a disgusted look and my tongue dried. Brooklyn is full of it, my home nearby built of it. I retreated and took refuge in another who found comfort in the frenzy of smack-talk.

Chocolate Fingers

It's quite a talent to be mouthing and mouthing with one's hand unseen, and a purse full of candy no one can find. I call my friend to say "oh you should have had this...." "you should have tried...." and I go on laughing and smeared undetected

Shadows that Reach

Rhoda and Louis, Susan and Neville, Jinny and Bernard raced across ice floes that sliced along the way. The moon stuck its fattened belly out and taunted them as they ran. The hour jangled in the darkness. The shutters stopped. Somewhere else, music chimed in and the hearth threatened less, and less. Usually it's better never to have tried anything new in the first place, I've found.

And so our heroes suffer.

Puppies

Well, it's really sad, but I can't get enough. They're just so snacky.
OK, winter is coming and so is the season of freeze-dried poo.

Meals on Wheels

Did I mention Bea Arthur is my new idol?

Scraping Metal

Washing the dishes sucks, especially when one feels obligation in terms of associating with gourmands. The buzzsaw whirls.

Running and Screaming

Well, I visited old childhood friends a while back. The twang in the air could only signify certain truths. Pregnancy, previous births. Tits down to the knees and chickens in the front yard. My black-toothed friend motioned to me and said, "Child come round here. Haven't seen such fey arms on a body since Morrissey went solo"

I approached tentatively and offered up my arms to behold.

She turned them round under her discerning eye [the one good one] and spat on the ground. "Hairdressin' ain't got you nowhere."

Sunshine

Ne'er had no use for it in my life. Bunch of trouble it gets ye. Sunspots, skin cancer, rabies, burns, attracting mosquitoes and the lot. Nope. Don't need it.

Congealed Blood

Fat sits curled on the knife, a reminder of every meal that ended with wishes to be elsewhere.

Construction at Home

We've no idea how the bed gets made, or who it is that hauls in the walls when we sleep. We know only that when we wake we shuffle through the long corridor and sigh audibly. The plants stir and we wake.

Silent Operas

This is the best part: the lip that quivers as we hear a clicking like a cat stalking. The makeup runs, the makeup gets pushed back onto the face. Mirrors fall at angles most precise so the light that flatters us does just so. Shadows take flight, the clock moves, and our eyes can pierce the dark. It's true stories. We've all seen them before.

Car Accidents

Nothing on earth can rival the collective gasp, the perfect silence or the blur that follows.

The Great Unknown

Can you believe she even leaves the house looking like that? It's like, try washing your hair sometime.

Pumpkin Pie

Oh my little pumpkin. Oh you sweet thing. Give it to me again. Ok one more time. I come home to you every night just for this, my little. Oh you never know, do you? You never know, my baby thing. Just a little is all I need and then again. You're just right you know. It's always been this and it's always been a little. Not much more, sugar thing. Oh yes again.