Red onto Grey
I'm in the process of writing another short story. In which the narrator is perceived to be extremely intelligent but possesses perverted morality values. Such is that insanity or indifference beckons.
In the process of? Not really. I started writing quite a while back but got overwhelmed with work. So it's been sitting dormant as draft all this time. I'll publish the beginnings of my draft now and finish it later.
Red onto Grey / The Grey Wheelbarrow
I remember quite well a poem by William Carlos Williams. The Red Wheelbarrow it was called. Now, how did it go again? Oh, yeah....
so much depends upon
a red wheelbarrow
glazed with rain water
nearby the white chickens
Bloody marvelous isn't it? I mean, the ability to speak in italics? Haha. Well, okay. I did steal the concept from Terry Pratchett but heck I ain't makin' money from this so sue me. Ah. On second thoughts, please don't.
Four simple lines mean so much. Mr. Goldbuns, my English teacher in back in Tailor's College, insisted it was so. Upon being asked why, he said it was open to interpretation. What da diddley duddeley farkh is the man talking about? Anyway, we all thought he was a raging queer until he started dating the Geography teacher of whom he could have hidden his slender girly frame behind.
Maybe she owned a strap-on.
Who knows?
Who cares?
I'm beginning, yonks later, to understand what ol' Goldbuns was yammering about. It is open to interpretation and mine is - that them little diddle things we all take for granted are either essential or have a major influence. How often is it that you have really really needed a triple locking inter-connectible star headed screwdriver? Not ever? Once every 5 years or so? But goddamn if you ever needed it, you needed it bad. Then look at something simple and more everyday like washing machine detergent. If you ran out and had a big load to do you'd know about it while you went through a big pile of laundry, sniffin' various items to check which ones didn't smell the worst. And a base necessity like yer house keys. If the door slammed and locked you out, you'd really really know about it. Especially if you was in your undies or had the shits or both. The neighbours will never look at you the same. Believe you, me.
I've got a wheelbarrow too. Wheeee! It's not red though. It's grey. A nice one it is too. It's been plenty useful since I got it. I don't use it everyday, I don't even use it every week but goddamn! I need it and really needed it sometimes. It lives in the garden shed. Just like any good wheelbarrow would.
Draft End 16/5/07
'Draft' is quite accurate, I wrote all that in one sitting and never had the time or inspiration to open it up again. One day perhaps I'll finish it.
4 comments:
Interesting, I can't write even if my life depended upon it :)
Mate, you blog don't you? :)
I've always been quite awed by literature (even though sometimes it goes too deep for me to understand). (: It happened to be a compulsory subject for me way back in Secondary school - not that I'm complaing though, because I always enjoyed the lessons and how we'd all analyze and break down the entire book/poem to understand the full meaning.
I'm been having ideas about writing a book though - albeit for my own amusement only. Most of the storyline is slowly forming in my head and from the looks of it, it's likely to be one of the humour genre than anything else. :P
Hi Brenda. That you bothered to read, what I wrote, alone is a compliment. As I've already mentioned, I am a fan of the way you write. Therefore your book would be of interest to me. That you are writing it for yourself is a good thing as I think that it will be an obvious extension to your personality.
Do you read Gerald Durrell incidentally?
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