sundays at the supermarket

dilemma

2007-11-28T15:42:00.000+01:00

I found a Ouagadougou on my map and now I don’t know if I should hand it over to the police.

observation

2007-11-28T15:40:00.000+01:00

This is not Shenzhen, they don’t do fake Gucci here.

logic for the mentally unchallenged III

2007-11-28T15:38:00.002+01:00

There are no atheists in foxholes. They’ve stopped signing up for lost causes long ago.

logic for the mentally unchallenged II

2007-11-28T15:38:00.001+01:00

To overcome the hen-and-egg problem, you simply have to stop believing in poultry. No one would even ask which was first, lamb or cow.

logic for the mentally unchallenged I

2007-11-28T15:34:00.000+01:00

If you don’t shut up, I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to my dogs. What, I don’t have any dogs? Well, then you don’t have any balls.

Jane-in-the-box: Appearances

2007-04-25T00:38:00.000+02:00

Ok, my name is Daniel Taylor, Taylor with a y. I live in The Meadows, room 07-03 in CV1 3LW Meadow Street, Spon End and I’d like to report a crime. I did. No, sir. No, I haven’t. Well, it started about a week ago. I came back from work around six in the morning and it was already getting light. Since I am regularly working the night shifts, I find it hard to go to sleep right away and usually

the depressive's guide to existence: library

2007-02-28T12:07:00.000+01:00

In olden times: A place in which books were stored and which got burned down every time a new emperor seized power. Nowadays: A place which encourages people to hang out, talk noisily and block the aisles whilst pretending to do serious work. Makes one wish back for frequent changes of emperors.

the depressive's guide to existence: reality

2007-01-11T17:54:00.000+01:00

An elaborate practical joke.

the depressive's guide to existence: hangover

2007-01-11T17:48:00.000+01:00

Same state as usual plus a pink fog in the brain that keeps shrouding reality's very fascinating different shades of grey.

the depressive's guide to existence: university

2007-01-09T15:24:00.000+01:00

Natural habitat of a species that miraculously escaped natural selection.

the depressive's guide to existence: forty-two

2007-01-05T21:28:00.000+01:00

Not the result of eight multiplied with six.

the depressive's guide to existence: sexuality

2007-01-05T20:54:00.000+01:00

Highly overrated. Seems to involve a piece of furniture commonly used to stash away the odd bits and bobs and a far from exhaustive terminology invoked at regular intervals.

the depressive's guide to existence: world

2007-01-05T20:46:00.000+01:00

Mostly indifferent.

the butt mutt

2006-12-30T22:17:00.000+01:00

Once upon a time, not long ago, I was sitting in the office of our little theatre trying to come up with a good idea for a story about food. I had chosen the theatre because in those days, the days between Christmas and New Year, it was quiet and secluded. That, and very, very messy, as I found when I went into the kitchen to prepare myself a nice cup of tea. Used coffee mugs, dirty dishes, a pot

things to do with food

2006-12-13T18:02:00.000+01:00

1. Buy your vegetables at the supermarket, special offer. Fuck the local farmers, fuck the food miles. Walk. 2. Stash it away in the fridge and forget about it. 3. Finally, remember it.

the meadows

2006-12-13T17:54:00.000+01:00

The morning after the storm I left my pad without locking the door. The wind had been raging all night and the rain beat hard against the window panes. Now, everything was quiet. The wail of the sirens had long died down. The downpour had turned into a slight drizzle, and the trees, relieved of the weight of their leaves, were slowly swaying in the breeze. I had a headache. I stepped into the

recently noticed

2006-08-11T13:06:00.000+02:00

Being a square does not seem unappealing at times.My prose is almost as bad as David G. Roberts'.One only has time when there is nothing to do.

spilt milk, or the use of crying

2006-08-11T12:53:00.000+02:00

What? So, you are a girl, a woman by now. What if that does not satisfy you? You're nowhere near. You know it.It is a little sad, don't you think, to see yourself wasting away, unfulfilled and wallowing in self-pity. You don't want that, and yet you do, yes you do. Because it is the closest you can ever get.When you are alone, in your own mind and the outside's out and the inside is inside of you

so long, jimmy : 2

2006-04-03T13:33:00.000+02:00

[...] Amazed and at a loss for words, I smiled back and gestured towards my half-empty glass.“I’m good, thanks.” I said, but he wouldn’t have any of that.“Wha’d’you want?” He didn’t wait for an answer and ordered another pint of FourX. Alright, it would be horse-piss then tonight, fine with me. I grabbed a stool and sat down next to him.“Th’Crooners are fucking brilliant,” he stated. Obviously,

epilogue

2006-02-04T15:27:00.000+01:00

Just recently, I came across the play After the Rain (Després de la Pluja) by Sergi Belbel. It was lying on the desk in the office of our little theatre. Bored and having run out of something to do, I grabbed the three essential Cs – a chair, a cigarette, a coffee – and started reading.Employees meet on the roof of their company’s tall building to enjoy their at-work cigarette. The sky

not agree

2006-01-25T21:05:00.000+01:00

I do not agree with the linguists who say that it is the complexity of our language that distinguishes us from the animal. It is our ability to surround ourselves with things we despise and that we are uncomfortable with, happily denying our unease and anxieties just to… to do what?

on cannery row

2006-01-25T20:55:00.000+01:00

The word is a symbol and a delight which sucks up men and scenes, trees, plants, factories, and Pekinese. Then the Thing becomes the Word and back to Thing again, but warped and woven into a fantastic pattern. The Word sucks up Cannery Row, digests it, and spews it out, and the Row has taken the shimmer of the green world and the sky-reflecting seas. (from: Cannery Row by John Steinbeck) It

so long, jimmy : 1

2006-01-23T20:33:00.000+01:00

It was some lonely Friday at the end of the first term of my second year. My Fridays were invariably spent in solitude, peering into my books on economics and wishing that whole fucked-up system to hell. I remember that it was Friday exactly because it was lonely and quiet, a state not often to be encountered in our house. At the time, I was living with four other second-year students in

would

2006-01-20T19:35:00.000+01:00

Would it be of any help if I mentioned that I was voted on the board of our little theatre?Would that be a good excuse?Would it be of any help if I mentioned that I do yet another director's assistance and that instead of getting shitfaced in front of a screen I'm getting wasted during rehearsals?Would that be a good excuse?Would it be of any help if I mentioned sort of in an aside that I'm

a new year. inert

2006-01-03T19:36:00.000+01:00

A new year, a new chance to fail. I see the flame of the night-light die and watch my tea getting cold. Inert. Aim higher, think bigger, and where are you now? Inert. Sooner or later you will write it out, bleed it out. One way or the other. Words drizzle slowly from my hands; the keyboard is sticky with the residue of tea and wine. The letters saccharine molecules forming an impenetrable,