Three-foot tall Man Child

Master and Margarita

h8s

Worst dilemma of my life = teabag string falling into the cup. Tab and all. Oh no.

Caramel

Tonight I went to a sports bar and watched New Zealand play Slovakia in the Football World Cup. It was a 1-1 draw. I only had one aim of the evening: to consume my first jager-bomb. My girlfriend bought us one each and I decided not to drink mine until the first goal was scored, or til half-time, whichever came first. At the forty five minute mark I dropped the brownish syrupy shot into the glass of half-flat red bull and drank it in two goes because it was delicious.
On the walk home everything looked so odd and great. I pulled out my camera and its battery was dead, of course. I wish I could describe it well enough. So geometrically pleasing. I was wearing glasses that made the world a collage of 2D cut-outs: pictures of buildings, lines, windows, drains, beams and frames pasted onto a black background for my eyes to see. Buildings are perfect. Ramps that lead to fenced off alleyways and doors in the middle of nowhere whose keyholes probably allow entry to some great hallway that smells of recently cut wood. The air was cold but it didn't get past my duffel coat into my Surfers Paradise t-shirt, only touched my cheeks and dampened my shoulders.
As I turned onto my street I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to walk down a street in Brooklyn: narrow brick houses, the sound of cars braking, the smell of cumin and greenhouse-skin scent of tomatoes from a corner grocers. I opened my eyes inches from a lamp-post. This is what happens when you watch too many movies.
I ought not fantasize.

Game

Here's a fun game. Which book is this from?
Resorting to photographs of other people's writing = sure sign of nothing to say
No internet cheating.

Musculature/ass

Token Rain Post

Heavy sky and its smudgy clouds, putting rain all up on this place. Cars are swushing on the roads, the chill windows are streaked with little rivers. Reading novels under a faux-fur throw.

Would be more quaint if the blood in my fingers was thick and warm and my left foot wasn't a dead block in its shoe. Mummy, mummy, I want to come home where the powerbill isn't addressed to me.

Space Dreaming

http://http://feministfatale.com/2010/03/the-bechdel-test-for-women-in-movies/

Girl

I like to look at every person I walk past. I make a point of it. It's an automatic pattern; I look up, I look down, I set my face in a certain expression and I look up again to see if the person will look at me too. I like making judgements about people based on this momentary exchange and to know if they are a rude or kind sort of person, or maybe if they are bored or upset. I did this pattern when I saw a girl coming towards me as I walked across campus tonight, going home from the supermarket. I bought coffee, spinach, mushrooms, a newspaper, orange tic-tacs, and pumpkins seeds which were partly thieved because I said they were code 41782, which is in truth sunflower seeds. She was a short, black-haired girl and she wore a white fur coat and a gold belt. That description doesn't really adequately describe how sweet she looked. When I looked at her she didn't look back because she was smiling to herself with lots of teeth. It was nice and I was glad I saw it.

Reasons I Like This City - I

Corridors to Where?

Toxic Schizophrenia - Tim Noble and Sue Webster