Tuesday, March 24, 2009

They are the Elders

They were only married for fear of being left on the shelf, thirty years old and failures of romance. Married not unhappily but all the same resignedly. One year had turned into five multiplied by five and doubled once more to reach fifty. And when one has been married for fifty years they don’t think of what could have been in this modern age but of celebrations and reflections.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

The number 14

Bad behaviour holds good people hostage. The old couple at the front sit closer together, backs still straight but wanting anxiously to shrink into their seats if only this movement would not attract the attention of the raging youth. They think of the good old days where one drank Pimms in moderation, where gallantry was appreciated, where dances were a treat. A girl with a long, silky ponytail looks at her watch and she sighs. She thinks of her eight o’clock shift in the morning and how she wants to get home sometime this millennia. Her blood is boiling slightly but her courage is dulled from reading terribly written newspaper articles. Even though the bus is not in South Auckland, no one wants to get knifed. I turn up my ipod to hide the escalating sounds of confrontation and try to think of nothing at all. All we want is to be ignored.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Party in the name of Edward Norton

The print of my dress reminds me of constellations and formations, the tiny grey dots cut short of stretching to improbability by the hem. A bolt of this fabric could create an amazing fallacy. I wonder if I lay very still, could I blend into the darkness around me, become a part of the night sky? But the light filtering through the windows reminds me that the grass is green, the fence is brown and that my lipstick is red. And colour is the scene tonight, streamers, ponchos and flashing lights trying to be atmospheric although most are paying homage to the Mexican theme with tequila. My red and black makes me look more vampire then mexican vamp.

Edward Norton once said "Every evening I died, and every evening I was born again, resurrected." Did he ever imagine his face being on a pinata?

Untitled

Sometimes he makes her cry