I am in this for you, and you are in it for me.
I took out some money, and you took out the trash. I asked you out on a date, but you said no, no, no. This feels like love but on crack.
Well isn’t it funny just when you think the world is drained, and this town too small, it all gets big and not that funny at all? It reminds us to be insular while we have the youth to excuse ourselves.
The problem with people who have something interesting to say, is that they so often are merely quoting. I would like to think that quoting and paraphrasing in conversation is like covering a song. Occasionally it’s a hallelujah, but more often that not it’s a smooth criminal.
Uh, I feel like I’m locked in a shop window, where a whole bunch of fat old women wander by and say “oh, and wouldye lookit thart” but nobody wants to buy. The price-tag is too high, and besides, the shop’s never open. Really, you’d have to break in and steal me.
Ernest Hemingway said that the best story he ever wrote were these six words:
“For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.”
Yeah. I didn’t get it for a long time, and when I realized what he meant I couldn’t stop crying. Out of sheer shock. I agree though, that’s probably one of the greatest stories ever told.
The first time I saw Saint Sebastian was in 1999, crabbing in the Mandurah estuary. I was crabbing that is, he was just sitting on the beach, all shot full of arrows so I knew it was him, seagulls picking at the wounds. I actually thought it was odd, that of all the places he could be he was in Mandurah, and it wasn’t even a very good night for crabs, they were tiny and argumentative. It’s not like he’s even a minor saint, he’s a big player, I thought he should have been on some throne of semi-precious gemstone, flying rocket-powered around the galactic clouds -- and then I have to go now, bailing a friend out of a sticky situation. I promise I’ll finish this story next blog post. It’s a really good one.
I think… I think too much, but I think, it’s all best summed up this week by Garth Ennis in ‘Preacher’ –
“Just shut the fuck up and hold me.”
Well isn’t it funny just when you think the world is drained, and this town too small, it all gets big and not that funny at all? It reminds us to be insular while we have the youth to excuse ourselves.
The problem with people who have something interesting to say, is that they so often are merely quoting. I would like to think that quoting and paraphrasing in conversation is like covering a song. Occasionally it’s a hallelujah, but more often that not it’s a smooth criminal.
Uh, I feel like I’m locked in a shop window, where a whole bunch of fat old women wander by and say “oh, and wouldye lookit thart” but nobody wants to buy. The price-tag is too high, and besides, the shop’s never open. Really, you’d have to break in and steal me.
Ernest Hemingway said that the best story he ever wrote were these six words:
“For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.”
Yeah. I didn’t get it for a long time, and when I realized what he meant I couldn’t stop crying. Out of sheer shock. I agree though, that’s probably one of the greatest stories ever told.
The first time I saw Saint Sebastian was in 1999, crabbing in the Mandurah estuary. I was crabbing that is, he was just sitting on the beach, all shot full of arrows so I knew it was him, seagulls picking at the wounds. I actually thought it was odd, that of all the places he could be he was in Mandurah, and it wasn’t even a very good night for crabs, they were tiny and argumentative. It’s not like he’s even a minor saint, he’s a big player, I thought he should have been on some throne of semi-precious gemstone, flying rocket-powered around the galactic clouds -- and then I have to go now, bailing a friend out of a sticky situation. I promise I’ll finish this story next blog post. It’s a really good one.
I think… I think too much, but I think, it’s all best summed up this week by Garth Ennis in ‘Preacher’ –
“Just shut the fuck up and hold me.”
posted by Cal Samson at 5:37 PM
4 Comments:
Oh bollicks. It's 10.40 at night, a few hours after that post.
Fecking bollicks.
RIGHTTTTTTTTT! And that's so important because????????
I love that baby shoes story. Can't remember where I first heard it, but it's great.
i know a story about a man and his purple pants.
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