...such as a lone balloon tied to a tram stop in Victoria Parade on my way to work in the morning, or a weeping woman on a train, and I invent stories about them.
The balloon was tied there by someone as a sign to their friends as to which tram stop to alight at in order to get to their party; only no-one came, no-one at all; and now they're feeling as limp and sad as the semi-deflated balloon itself.
The woman has just left her husband after years of fighting and is weeping with a combination of sorrow and joy that she's finally done it; and at the next stop someone will get on who offers her a hanky, and with whom she'll start a wild and wonderful new life.
I see things, and entire histories flash through my head in seconds, and I wonder if I should turn them into new stories, but I never seem to write them down, or if I do, I write them in my blog instead of turning them into succinct, polished literary gems that I could submit to Overland or Meanjin. Is blogging helping my writing or hindering it?
Hmmmm, I wonder where I put that uncompleted novel?
5 comments:
these stories are indeed destined for your blog - how else am I to be entertained?
Well, I could suggest that you watch me set fire to John Howard and we laugh madly as he screams, but if I did, and we did, we'd both be arrested, mr jedi, and we don't want that, no matter how entertaining that is!
Perhaps if you didn't write them in your blog, you wouldn't write them down at all...?
At least the thoughts and memories are here for you to turn into polished literary gems when you feel like it.
oh, richardwatts, tammiodo is right. here they are - for us to savour and for you to return to when you get your sugar-daddy, and life becomes an endless delirium of wearing glamorous house clothes and dashing off capote-esque stories in a library full of cracked leather spines...
oh, sorry, was i fantasising out loud again?
was great to see you last night. i feel sure we'll work our way up to the yellow jumper.
Mmmmm, cracked leather...
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