Disentangling

I.

I realised I was probably in love with you. It was that day we were all building things at my rambling junk-strewn house, hammering and sanding and painting the chassis of the old trailer that we wanted to fill with tools and use as a mobile bike workshop. Do you remember trying to pry up the splintered lino with a chisel while the sun beat down outside? Later we retired to the porch, cracked tinnies, and watched the chickens mow the front lawn while the gums across the street pinkened in fading light. Continue reading

This Is Kind Of About You And Kind Of About Some Things I Read On the Internet

Part I: I Wish You Would Call Me

I am feverish in my apartment. Getting myself off with one hand and holding a cup of Fantastic noodles in the other. I’m not sure what “Oriental” is supposed to taste like but it is not the taste you want in your mouth when you finally squirt during the opening sequence of Today Tonight. Continue reading

Removals

Someone has stuck a sanitary pad to the inside of the stall door. It’s raining hard outside. I stand back from the toilet, my feet shoulder width apart, to avoid stepping in the puddle of piss. Someone has stuck a pad to the inside of the door, but all I can think about is how I don’t want to move house. The band is getting ready to start. I can hear the tentative twangs and booms of the guitars and bass being taken up through the walls of the toilet. I wash my hands.

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{HERP} {ERMT} {PBT}

He asked her where she’d found them. She’d said it didn’t matter. She said she could guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. Not for them. It’s once in a lifetime, she said. One person in this house got it in their lifetime – it’s more like one in 3 million lifetimes.
They’d had a fight. It was nothing big. They had been irritable and stressed from life in the city. She’d gone for a walk. Continue reading

Jack Daniels for the soul

My relationship began as most do: with butterflies, feeling on top of the world whenever his hand brushed mine, melting whenever I smelled his cologne, adoring every word he said, and smiling whenever someone said his name. There were so many firsts all at once, it was like a love-bomb: first date, first kiss, first time we said the L word, the first time he stayed at my house, first time I met his family, and the first time we farted in front of each other (my favourite first).

Four years later, we’re engaged and living together, and things have naturally changed. We have all but run out of firsts. The butterflies are present but not nearly as frequent; whenever someone says his name, I’m like ‘yeah, ok’; and the conversation isn’t exactly adorable. Often I find him giving me a detailed description of the shit he just took, or telling me why tomato sauce should be a food group. Continue reading