bb333

bb333

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UKUELE He walked off stage with a grin from ear to ear and his ukulele. He cocked one eyebrow at her. Sara desperately did not want to smile back. Baker was jubilant. And annoyingly handsome. She was still fuming. "Don't bother coming the cowboy with me Sonny Jim" she said, meaning it. But as the words slipped from her mouth she realised that he had indeed come the cowboy well and truly in his usually flamboyant fashion. She was powerless against his charm. God, she said, I am definitely not getting a drink with you.

Its like all of life. The most monumental events all come down to a series of tiny insignificant moments. Wendy would never have been able to guess that those few scribbled lines on a chalkboard in a convent school on the border of Chile and Peru would lead her to knowing what she now knew.

windy

CATCH Do you think you could catch my pain as it moves towards you? Perhaps if you were to fondle it gently, pat it like a dog, it might transform. My pain could become a bulging red love heart or a white cloud ready to float straight back past my face. If I had to guess at it though, I do not think that you will be catching my pain. I think you plan to punch it in the face to make it swell and bleed.

windy

BROKEN This came up yesterday and I couldn't figure a thing to write. Funny how life works out. Just 24 hours later, here I am. Exactly that thing. A messy little pile of broken pieces. Promises, hopes, dreams. Poof. Gone. The only thing left of you is the phone charger you left in my socket. So at least you'll be back.

windy

Grace dropped the instrument at her feet and listened for the sound of gunfire. Bullets echoed faintly, their whistles almost lost in the windy din of an October storm. Stalin was coming. Just as Daddy said he would.

VULTURES You must always move quickly, she said. For even when things seem calm, the vultures will still be at your back. You can not see them coming. Stay alert. And never leave yourself exposed in the morning sun.

LACK We do not lack choice. This morning for instance I could walk down to the ocean and throw myself into it, allowing myself to bob and float at its will. Or I could put my body on the bus and take it to the art gallery and stand in front of my favourite Brett Whiteley painting. Either of those things would most likely make me feel as if life was worthwhile. I could embark on a new career or finish the one I started. But predictability, I will make the incorrect choice and allow myself to sit here and seeth over the endless piles of vomit you continue to leave at my feet.

The world fell from the sky and applied the weight of itself to her chest. Underneath it her burning heart constricted and lapsed. She wondered if the words on the screen were just words on the screen or if they were the end of her. It was hard to reconcile the two. She looked down again consuming each one carefully. Then she began to put them back together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle hoping that once assembled they might create a different picture. But no.

The shadows of winter Fridays were long and purple. Their giant tendrils stretched entire length of our back yard. The tall pines over at the Whitelys refused entry to the sun almost entirely, and thats why we would find ourselves always huddled up in the very same corner, every afternoon while we waited for Mamma to come. It was the only place where the light touched our face and the daisies found the courage to break up through the surface of the buffalo grass.

INSTRUCTIONS If there was one thing I remember about Missy Collins its that she was not a young woman who liked to take instructions. It wasn't that she didn't like learning. She had a curious mind and an often dangerous appetite for adventure, always pushing herself to new limits and trying new things. Certainly Shane Crawford had been witness to that. So it wasn't that she didn't want to suck all the beautiful juice out of life, its just that she god damn hated being told what to do.

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writing since 2014 · 223 entries · 155 days shown up

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on this day 11 years ago

bb333 wrote about scripted
“Life hadn't transpired as I had scripted it. I thought I would go to my grave crying for the cop in Sydney who didn't love me back. God knows I spent months hugging my pillow in endless heart wrenchi…”

the words bb333 reaches for

nowfaceloveeyesanotherbodyheadheartherselfhandserenaskymindroomfullwords