doodle

there is a line invisibly drawn from the tip of my nose to the tip of your head. on the line there hang two old pants, a lacy bra, and my mother's old pajamas which i've not been wearing lately because you're allergic to hemp. these things are pegged with the beaks of golden chickens. laying eggs from dusk til dawn the chickens cluck away endlessly and eventually lose their beaks, which are then carefully picked up by dwarves but only from the hours of three fifteen to four sixteen in the morning. this is because at this time the constellation of orion is well hidden, and as everybody knows dwarves are scared witless of hunting dogs. specially dalmatians, and what else could they be up there glittering and shining away over the line. the line between the top of your head and the tip of my nose. which one day a spider will unravel and then you'll go this way and i'll go over there. just a little to the left.

dramatic

a goose had been travelling for a long time when it decided to land on the roof top. under the tails a couple of worms got a fright and died of respective heart attacks. further down under the ceiling the snores of the boy covered up the thump, and the girl got on with her morning breakfast, unaware. the goose preened her feathers under the morning sun. the sun, as is often the case this time of year, was sighing nuclear flares, fed up with having the same things around him year-in year-out. those pesky planets do nothing but bicker. jupiter was found to be scraping the olive oil from his olives "to make sure he didn't get any bigger", mars nearly strangled him. what's the point of leaving something so silly and so vain go round under the poor all-suffering sun? the goose didn't notice any of these conversations. she'd been distracted by the fact that mr goose has been an absolute prat and left her well behind on their way south. of course the only option was to sulk and lag behind. maybe he'd notice. maybe he'd realise how lonely it was without her. maybe he'd come... oh but just then a couple of crows crowed in alert but it was too late, the farmer had come and shot the goose. and a jolly good christmas dinner it will make too.

factual

a boy is being given the run around by a girl
he travels the world and meets a great girl
he goes back home
the girl doesn't know he's met a great girl
she continues to give him the run around
the boy continues to run around
clearly he doesn't know he's met a great girl either.

manic

manic on the phone
kissing all the girls
running through the crowds

smoking is bad for you

but if you have a terrible cough that has been dogging you for the last week and a half, have a puff and see the symptoms disappear. indeed.

mccarthy bloody hell

genious

nighttime

gunpowder, plot and treason

faith

and every seed carries within the hope of one day becoming a sturdy tree. and down the sides of mountains they roll. and river carry them through. the sun shining on their skin. winds caressing them to sleep.

good news

bad news good news bad news good news bad news.