I combed my brain to get out the crumbs and see what they all added up to. I sent the unnecessary cake away to be assessed, hoping its irregular texture might mean it's tremendous.
I watched a spider disappear into the new Thee Oh Sees album.
I read R. Adler's account of her experience of reading a P. Kael book and began to think I should think more about what I'm doing with all these words.
My role at work changed and now instead of putting people in rooms I put numbers in boxes. The boxes change colour when they're satisfied.
Barbaric fluctuations in the thickness of the five-pence piece cause frowns above the coin tray.
Showing posts with label nothing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nothing. Show all posts
Glass Hammers
There was a kitchen that didn't have a tin opener, and a kitchen that didn't have a tea towel.
The kitchen that didn't have the tin opener had no tin-opener for at least six months.
The kitchen that didn't have the tea towel had no tea towel for apparently a year.
I worked one day in both of them. They had a lot of tins and things that get wet.
No one knew where the one without the tea towel was. I'd been given directions to where it wasn't. There'd been some sort of google map postcode-coding error or GMPTE journey search function spasm, but I only realised when instead of arriving at the offices of a company, I arrived at nowhere in particular, and it was a large circle of townhouses probably all with a decent amount of tea towels in them.
People came out of the houses one at a time and I asked them where these offices might be, and none of them knew. And the woman in Londis didn't know, and the three girls at the hotel didn't know, and my bosses on the phone didn't know, and the guy in Topps Tiles didn't know.
The taxi driver knew, and he let me know too, and also let me know that traffic lights on roundabouts is a ridiculous idea.
Next week there will be a kitchen with no knives and a menu with no food. I will turn up in glasses with no lenses and a shirt with no buttons.
I tried to get a job with no pay. I think they call it "volunteering". There was a form. I filled it in and out. They said thanks, and then nothing happened.
The kitchen that didn't have the tin opener had no tin-opener for at least six months.
The kitchen that didn't have the tea towel had no tea towel for apparently a year.
I worked one day in both of them. They had a lot of tins and things that get wet.
No one knew where the one without the tea towel was. I'd been given directions to where it wasn't. There'd been some sort of google map postcode-coding error or GMPTE journey search function spasm, but I only realised when instead of arriving at the offices of a company, I arrived at nowhere in particular, and it was a large circle of townhouses probably all with a decent amount of tea towels in them.
People came out of the houses one at a time and I asked them where these offices might be, and none of them knew. And the woman in Londis didn't know, and the three girls at the hotel didn't know, and my bosses on the phone didn't know, and the guy in Topps Tiles didn't know.
The taxi driver knew, and he let me know too, and also let me know that traffic lights on roundabouts is a ridiculous idea.
Next week there will be a kitchen with no knives and a menu with no food. I will turn up in glasses with no lenses and a shirt with no buttons.
I tried to get a job with no pay. I think they call it "volunteering". There was a form. I filled it in and out. They said thanks, and then nothing happened.
Two Groups Repeat Themselves Senseless
Didn't see anything going off. Just jostling and shouting and riot-horses shitting and a hairdresser sweeping the shit into a grid. All the police had their face-shoving gloves on and I saw some faces get shoved. I climbed various fences but could not get a good view of the nazi scum. There is an abundance of fences due to all the digging-up-of-roads going on in the city centre. While up these various fences some blokes would ask "Is it kicking off?". I saw Westwood walking away from it all, looking tall and smelling expensive. In a record shop a man said "It'll get grim round here come nightfall", like there'd be ghouls and werewolves. Krishnan Guru-Murthy was lying when he said "thousands of protesters". It was thousands of people, watching hundreds of protesters declaring their dislike for a handful of whatever you want to call them. There was a sign that said "patriotism is not racism" right next to one that said "no more mosques in britain".
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