yeah, i'm avoiding anything that looks like work today, and tomorrow, and then, again, on Friday. fuck it, it's something like a holiday. (or my brain turned into liquid.) so that means i'm particularly open to all the dumb and slightly less dumb but ultimately time consuming memes going around the livejournal community.
take this one:
Everyone who reads this, ask me 3 questions, no more, no less. Ask me anything you want. Then I want you to go to your journal, copy and paste this allowing your friends (including myself) to ask you anything.
(see
ironed_orchid, you just chop the word want off it. it's easy like Sunday morning.)
so: come on, ask me anything. i promise to lie.
take this one:
Everyone who reads this, ask me 3 questions, no more, no less. Ask me anything you want. Then I want you to go to your journal, copy and paste this allowing your friends (including myself) to ask you anything.
(see
ironed_orchid, you just chop the word want off it. it's easy like Sunday morning.)so: come on, ask me anything. i promise to lie.
- Notes:the music - turn out the light
Comments
All right, then.
1]When did you move out of your parent/guardian's house into a place of your own?
2]Have you ever stolen a park bench or other piece of public property?
3]How do you feel about breakfast foods?
It was in 1853, and Winter. I didn't much have a say in the way I left, for Father had lost much in his gambling debts and considered that selling his children would be a way to regain his heavy losses. At first, we laughed, but when the butcher down the street purchased my eleven year old sister for his wife, the remaining five of us knew we couldn't remain. That very night I ditched out on my siblings and went down to the Thames where I signed onto a ship. I suppose it's not really my own, but I spent five years along various trade routes before finally disembarking in Cooktown, where I would met my first wife.
>Have you ever stolen a park bench or other piece of public property?
Yes. In recent years, I've stolen a Detour sign, a Man at Work sign, and a Stop sign. I am constructing my own kingdom and these are important in the establishment of it.
>How do you feel about breakfast foods?
If you eat in the morning, it's breakfast.
1) If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?
2) On your deathbed, what would you want to look back on to be content?
3) What are your best and worst qualities?
Lame questions...I can never think of anything good!
That we ain't livin' on the bottom of the ocean, where it's all inky black and we can't see nothin' and our bones are crushed to little white bits. In fact, I reckon bein' a boneless thing that could walk upright and have sex like them boneless things'd be alright too. But mostly I'd like to be living on the bottom of the ocean in big steel cities and cavortin' with mermaids.
>On your deathbed, what would you want to look back on to be content?
I reckon it'll be that I never did procreate with my siblings and create them there deformed mutants you hear 'bout.
>What are your best and worst qualities?
Well, I like to think that one of me best qualities were the way that I showed a kindness to strangers. Mostly by not kidnappin' them and puttin' them in the back o'me pickup truck where I'd force them to read endlessly bad Stephen King novels while licking their toes. It were always in me, it were, but I always did hold it back, and so no one ain't ever had to suffer that there way.
My worse quality, I think, would be the fact that I were born with both male and female reproductive organs.
That just turns your sentences into imperatives. The last thing I want to do is order people about. Well, maybe not the very last...
It looks like you chopped words of my questions...
Do you have a favourite word or phrase?
What is it?
Do you use it all the time or keep it safe, for special occasions?
i like ordering. it's good for me, in that tiny dictator way.
>It looks like you chopped words of my questions...
i justed want to make them as empty as i could. well, at least one. so that whatever you came up with next would probably have very little to do with the question.
anyhow, answering in a sec.
No.
>What is it?
No.
>Do you use it all the time or keep it safe, for special occasions?
All the time.
(you know, i'm disappointed in myself for this one. I couldn't come up with anything cool, so i just went for a dumb joke. sigh.)
2) Why do you like midgets?
3) Rutabega?
you know, when i first glanced at this, I thought you were asking what is the best thing i've written to a date... i had a nice little story that was going to work in midgets and rutabaga into that. ah well. anyhow, a more serious approach.
published (or soon to be published) wise, i think it's 'the dreaming city', which'll be out in LEVIATHAN FOUR: CITIES. i think it's the purest form of what i've wanted to write and what i've actually written coming together. it's ambitious, in that it has three different narratives which fall back upon each other, and uses the historical figures of mark twain and an aboriginal rebel called pemulwy, and then proceeds to give an introduction to a book mark twain never wrote, which serves to links the two other strands together. and, i think, it works structurally, which is the big trick with those kind of stories.
however, i do think that the stuff i am working on now is better. but then, that's what you've got to think, i guess, to sit down and do it.
now, back to the lying:
>2) Why do you like midgets?
Well, who wouldn't like a midget? They're small and yummy, and you can stash them in your pantry when regular sized women come over. I remember my first midget, in the Summer of 1974, when I was touring with DeadFish. She was a nihilist, which wasn't really my thing, but you never seen a girl take to sex with knives quicker than her. And she liked being stashed in a pantry. I couldn't have asked for more, I couldn't have.
>3) Rutabega?
My 70's midget girl smelt like rutabaga. Probably from being in the pantry all that time, but ever since, I have been unable to eat it. the memories and her tragic, spontanous combustion, are too much for me.
Arrr, here be my questions three.
What's your favourite Sydney location?
What charities do you donate to, if any?
Why *are* you such a curmudgeon? (I'm really looking forward to the outright falsehood inspired by this one ;)
I don't have a favourite Sydney location. I have places I like, but they depend upon my mood. Where I grey up, there's a big empty field that is used as a catchment for when it rains and floods, and when it's not went, and empty, it's a nice to go and sit on the hills that lead down into it. Listen to music, gaze at powerlines, it's all good. Then, in the Victoria Galleries, there is a huge and beautiful bookstore, that spelling of the name which aludes me. There was a burger place in Erskinville that made the best burgers I have ever had: it had plastic dinosaurs throughout it, and the burgers were named after them. There's Hyde Park in Winter nights, when the sky is dark and the lamps are burning white. There's Jenny's Chicken.
But mostly these places only become favourites with the people you're with, and the memories with them.
>What charities do you donate to, if any?
I do not donate to charities.
>Why *are* you such a curmudgeon? (I'm really looking forward to the outright falsehood inspired by this one ;)<
I'm not.
In truth, I don't know where these kind of perceptions about me derive from or what I do to warrent them. I am always surprised whenever they are brought up, but ultimately, I do not have any control over the way people see me, and have resigned myself to the fact that there is very little I can do about it. I thought that keeping to myself would result in less of these opinions, but I do not think that it has worked.