Needs some more vernacular.... Mick: (staring at the rusted bloody barbecue)Everything ever created is unique, they say. Look at this thing. Unique my arse. It’s just bent metal, melted knobs and regret. Rhea:Nah mate, that particular pattern of bent metal and regret has never happened before and never will again. Tom:That’s beautiful, that is. Shakespeare,… Continue reading The BBQ
Tag: Writing
Bunkering down
The snow along the fjord road had that grey, exhausted look,the kind it gets when it’s been asked to cover more sinsthan even nature thinks reasonable. Albert kicked at a frozen clump and muttered,“So Silicon Valley’s digging bunkers now.”Marin didn’t look up. “Of course they are.They think the world’s falling apart.”“Isn’t it?” he asked.She shrugged.… Continue reading Bunkering down
A start again
A humid Friday night in a Brisbane pub. Ceiling fans useless. Footy on the TV with no sound. Adam’s already two pints in when Anna walks in with a grin and a couple more. She drops them onto the table so hard the foam nearly jumps out. Anna: Jesus, mate, you look like someone just… Continue reading A start again
Ceteris Paribus 