I probably wont be posting much for a week or so.

I know, excuses already, but these are good ones. I think. Maybe.

Right now I'm in the middle of writing a report for college which is due next week, and I haven't even started this one (mostly due to other essays due in.)

I also got some nice treats in the mail.

So I'm going to contend with these too. I'm looking forward to No Hellos Diet and Hurt Others. Sam Pink really knows how to make me happy. Person was great, and The Self Esteem Holocaust was the book I crowned my favourite of 2010, Frowns Need Friends Too was also most enjoyable. So yeah, this time next week my posts will probably be ripping off Sam Pink. Probably.
 I've also good things about Leaving the Atocha Station, so I hope what I've heard is true.

An excerpt from 'How to Punch Pigeons in chicago'

On my lunch hour I went for a cigarette.
I grabbed a burger on the way out so I could have some food too.
My boss looked at me with a shit eating grin.
What is a shit eating grin?
I sat out the back on the stairs smoking, eating and reading.
The new girl Jess came out and sat beside me.
She had short hair, was kind of cute and half korean.
 "You're getting fired today" were the first words she said to me
 "I know"
 "How will you live?"
 "In a box behind this place."
 "That sucks"
 "I'm going to piss in the fryer before I leave"
Jess got up and searched her pockets.
I draw out my cigarettes and offer her one.
She takes it and sits back down again.
I look at the car parked across from us.
 "That's his car" Jess tells me, referring to the BMW.
I contemplate getting up and keying it, but I don't.
 "I know. He gave me a lift home last Christmas, I vomited in the back seat." I tell her this.
 "Oh?"
 "You stole my job."
She was taken aback by this comment.
 "He only hired you so he could have another slave to replace me"
She laughed and hit me on the arm.
 "You're a fucking moron if you think that" she said.
 "I'm a fucking moron."
She got up and went back inside.
I relit a cigarette and went back to my reading.
I'm getting fired today.
The burger was cold by the time I started eating it.
After my break I go back in and finish my shift.
I wasn't fired today.

I'm going to stab someone in the face tonight.

David Cameron reads Ayn Rand, Sarkozy reads Camus and Sartre, not because he likes them, but because the French left like them and he's trying hard to get in their good books. Berlusconi reads erotica exclusively.

I WANT TO LINE YOUR BODY WITH KISSES

THEN WRITE POEMS ABOUT YOU ALL DAY

POEMS THAT WEREN'T CHEESY LIKE THIS ONE

I'D LOVE TO WRITE THINGS YOU'D ENJOY

THEN WE COULD HANG OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS

YOU'D GET JEALOUS OF ME TALKING TO THE BARMAID

I'D GET JEALOUS OF YOU TALKING TO YOUR OLD BOYFRIEND

WE'D BOTH GO HOME DRUNK AND ARGUE

YOU'D WIN THE ARGUMENT

I JUST WANT TO SLEEP

YOU'D TELL YOUR FRIENDS IT WAS ALL MY FAULT

WE WILL SEPARATE AND NEVER SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN

YOU'LL GET MARRIED, I'LL SEE IT ON FACEBOOK

I WILL CATCH UP WITH YOUR SISTER ONE DAY

SHE WILL TELL ME YOU AREN'T HAPPY

YOU STILL THINK OF ME A LOT

I DON'T THINK OF YOU THAT MUCH

ONLY WHEN I NEED INSPIRATION FOR POETRY

i want to quit college
get a job making minimum wage
live on pot noodle and Captain Morgan's
realise i will never get published
live in melancholy, alone
die at the age of 35

I Can't Remember If We Had Sex That Night.

Deeza lived in a small apartment. It was a 'studio' and was in the arts district. The only furniture she had was a bookcase and a bed. When we got to her apartment she told me it was bare, I laughed it off, but now I see she was serious. We listened to music from her macbook, 'The Cool Kids' I think. We smoked a little pot and she asked if we should order pizza. I agreed it was probably a good idea so we ordered a 12" cheese and tomato. I was feeling hazy when it arrived. Deeza finished most of it, I had about 3 slices tops. We laughed when Chuck Inglish or Mikey Rocks, I don't know which one, sang: "And I'm out, here we go, hear me out, Chuck is dope, tell the pope, yo what else you wanna know?". It wasn't particularly funny, but we were high, and stupid. We both hugged and laughed, then hugged some more. It was an absurd scene.

We went for a walk in our high state. Deeza brought another joint to keep the buzz if it starts to drop. It was around 3 am. We were the only ones out save for a few bar leaving stragglers heading to the all night café. We decided to get some coffee and a bite to eat. So we followed them in. Inside the cafe it was loud with drunks shouting on friends, waitresses, whoever. There was no free tables, but there was a couple who shouted us over. Said we could sit with them. We did. The couple said they were out celebrating their 5th year together. They asked how long we had been together. Deeza looked at me, shrugged and said forever. I looked at her and said and a day. She said what?, I replied forever and a day, we've been together for ever and a day. We hadn't. We weren't even together. We were just friends from college. After coffee and a link sausage roll we left the café and headed back to Deeza's. On the way we smoked the last joint. We sang 'And I'm out, here we go, hear me out, Chuck is dope, tell the pope, yo what else you wanna know?' We laughed loudly and I almost fell over. Deeza said I was an idiot.

Back in Deeza's apartment I chose the music. I chose Gnarls Barkley. We made stupid pop culture references and laughed at how silly everything was. Deeza looked at me and said we're still in war with Afghanistan, no one ever remembers this unless it's on the news. I told her that was correct, I forgot we were in Afghanistan until she mentioned it. War is fucking juvinile she said. I said life is juvinile. She said life is worthless and that we should all die. I said dying is worthless and we should live forever as a sign of deviance. She liked that idea. She then told me she tried to read Joyce, but found him to be irrelevant in contemporary society. I said he was a hack and Beckett was better. She laughed and said she didn't know who the fuck Beckett was. I laughed at her laughing.

It was around 5 in the morning and the music had changed to The Antlers. Deeza looked at me and said that we could fuck, but only if I loved her. I said I wasn't sure if I loved her in the sense she was hoping, I told her I don't even know what love is. She said that I could fuck her, but only if I try to love her. I told her I would try. This made her happy and she smiled and said I could maybe stay forever. I said that'd be nice.

We all die eventually, why not today?

A male and a female are in the kitchen area of a Brooklyn loft apartment. They are surrounded by many others and a band are playing in the main living area of the small loft. The female is frantically waving her arms at the male.


MALE: I didn't know when we first met we'd be this depressed.

FEMALE: I knew, I fucking knew, I fucking told you

MALE: [Reaching for a beer] Well, thanks for the heads up

FEMALE: It's not my fault, you know this. Don't make this about me, don't make it my fucking fault, I cared for you, I fucking cared.


MALE: [Sips on his beer in a casual manner] Maybe if I was Steve you'd let me make this about you.

FEMALE: fuck...[she pauses] fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. [She turns her back to the male] I don't even want you here anymore, get the fuck out. [shouting] GET THE FUCK OUT!

MALE: [Grabbing the female and turning to face him] I'm not leaving, all my friends are here, can we do this tomorrow, can we do this when everyone leaves?


FEMALE: [Pushing him away] Leave me alone, just, just leave. No, don't I'm leaving, I'm going for a walk and I wont be back, I'm going to kill myself, I'm going to kill myself because of you prick.

The female pushes her way past the crowd and out the door, the male follows but stops short of the door, turns and heads back through the crowd and into the kitchen area where he pours a large drink and swallows it almost instantly.

MALE: fuck it. [He shrugs and opens the large windows to the balcony and looks down.] fuck it.

The male looks back to the crowd of people who are busy paying attention to the band, he utters an inaudible sentence. The male jumps.

In contrast to the conventional sociological view of the time that saw the education system ‘failing’ working class youth, Willis argued that the lads he observed were deliberately failing themselves in recognition of the inevitable manual working future that awaited them.

i lost the child in me
watched the sun rise and was bored
no longer want to skate
just want to hang around reading
just want to hang around and get fucked up
4 years of college and no degree
my 8 year old self would kick the shit out of me

salt lake city punks move to new york city
get jobs working in diners
wishing they still lived in slc
selling chapbooks for 4 dollars
no one is buying chapbooks anymore
their 16 year old self would kick the shit out of them

scottish writers copying american writers
nothing is original anymore
no one wants to be original anymore
i don't want to be original anymore
i want to kick the shit out of myself.

I'm out of a fucking job and the cute korean girl spat in my fries.

What Whales Wish For is Not Always What Whales Recieve

All whales desire cold, small girls
But small, cold girls desire
A guy with a moustache
Who in return wishes only for a beer.

All whales want to cuddle lions
But lions are carnivorous
They care not for hugs,
But rather they wish for lunch.

All Eskimo's desire fresh whale
But whales do not wish to be eaten
However, spear trumps fin
All Eskimo's eat fresh whale

Shit my friends say that cheers me up.

If you were Rooney retarded, we'd have to get you to a doctor. Asap!

I found out, it's the brown sugar that makes your pee smell like that.

My friend the Captian is inapropriate.

I'm not alone
The captain is here
We get shit faced together
Then we call you
Then we hang up on you
Then you call us
We forgot about caller ID.
It's the captains fault
He brings out the worst in me.

A Tuesday in October

Dillon was sick that morning before work. He had spent the night drinking too much liquor, alone, playing guitar and writing crappy short stories he'd never finish. Dillon chugged down half a bottle of mouthwash got dressed and began his walk to his place of work, the used book store in the city centre. When he got there his boss knew Dillon had been drinking, he could see, and frankly the mouthwash had failed to cover up the smell. Dillon looked at his boss's face and saw the disgust.

“I'm going to kill myself today, do you want to fire me on the day I killed myself?”

Mr Patterson, Dillon's boss looked him in the eyes, saw that there was truth to his claim and said that it would be best if Dillon stayed in the back room doing stock. Dillon walked past the other staff members and entered the stock area. He was about to put his earphones in and listen to the Fond of Tigers' album he had just download. Then he heard his name being called.

“Dill, Dill, is it true? Are you really going to kill yourself today?”.

It was Marnie, one of the few people in the world who cared enough to talk to him. Dillon shrugged, looked apathetically at Marnie and shrugged one more time before he put his headphones in and started to take stock.

On his lunch hour Dillon went to the vegan café across the road and tried to order a bacon sandwich. He was refused and subsequently barred from the premises for being a dick. Dillon then went to the pet shop and bought a bag of doggy treats instead and walked down the high street. Past Waterstones, McDonald's, HMV, and that indie record store that he's too scared to enter because of the pretty hipsters that hang around at the door. He kept walking, walking for almost two hours. When he returned to the store Mr. Patterson was angry and his face red and he looked like he was going to hit Dillon but held back and instead took a long breathe.

“Just go home Dill.”

Dillon did so.

At home the phone was ringing, the caller ID showed his mothers number, he knew his boss had called his mother and told her the threat made earlier. The ringing turns into knocking, the knocking turns into kicking and the door is on the floor. Dillon's brother is stood standing there in the doorway looking at Dillon who was just sat in the hallway adjacent the door listening to his music. His brother grabbed him and dragged him from his lotus position and pulled him down the hall. Dillon was in the back of his brothers car. They were heading towards his mothers house. Dillon thought about opening the door and rolling out, but he did not. Instead he just sat and stared at the tree hanging from the rear view mirror as it swings to and fro.

When they got to their mother's house Dillon walks in on his own accord, goes straight up to his old room and looks around. The posters of old bands he no longer likes, books he didn't take with him when he moved out. Comics from the early 90's in the corner. Action figures, guitars, a drum kit and records he no longer listens to. He looks around and remembers memories of his younger self. His first girlfriend, watching Ghost and knowing then that it was a bad movie. Awkwardly groping his girlfriend while she watched the film. Trying to be quiet, his parents downstairs, his brother in the next room. Staying indoors on summer days, watching TV and being melancholy over lost love. He remembered his first band, jamming frantically in his bedroom making noise that had the neighbours complaining, but his parents supporting, claiming it's creative. And he looks back and remembers days of innocence, days of nothing but pure unadulterated happiness. He remembers this, looks at himself in the mirror, shrugs at the 24 year old looking back at him. “Where did we go wrong?” he whispers to himself.