Booze takes a lot of time and effort if you’re going to do a good job with it.
Hi, how’re you? It’s been a while! How about this weather we’re having? Mad isn’t it. DO YOU LIKE MY PROSE? And how about those football scores at the weekend? WOULD YOU SAY I HAVE A DECENT COMMAND OF RHYTHM? I know, tell me about it! It’s anyone’s season now. DID YOU FIND THE SYNTAX SUFFICIENTLY IMMERSIVE? Hey I like your shoes. I really need to go shoe shopping soon. TELL ME ABOUT MY DIALOGUE. WAS IT BELIEVABLE? So are you still seeing that Welsh man? Lloyd, was it? Liam. That’s right. HOW DID YOU FIND IT COMPARES TO OTHER PUBLISHED WORK YOU’VE READ? Oh that’s such a shame. Never mind. WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THE TITLE?
Coming Up for Air was the funniest book I’ve read in a good while.
Sentimental you say? Anti-social? Oughtn’t to prefer trees to men? I say it depends what trees and what men.
It’s only because chaps are coughing their lungs up in mines and girls are hammering at typewriters that anyone ever has time to pick a flower. Besides, if you hadn’t a full belly and a warm house you wouldn’t want to pick flowers. But that’s not the point. Here’s this feeling that I get inside me - not often I admit, but now and again. I know it’s a good feeling to have. What’s more, so does everybody else, or nearly everybody. It’s just around the corner all the time, and we all know it’s there. Stop firing that machine-gun! Stop chasing whatever you’re chasing! Calm down, get your breath back, let a bit of peace seep into your bones. No use. We don’t do it. Just keep on with the same bloody fooleries.
You know the look of a wood fire on a still day. The sticks that have gone all to white ash and still keep the shape of sticks, and under the ash the kind of vivid red that you can see into. It’s curious that a red ember looks more alive, gives you more of a feeling of life, than any living thing. There’s something about it, a kind of intensity, a vibration - I can’t think of the exact words. But it lets you know that you’re alive yourself. It’s the spot on the picture that makes you notice everything else.
Why don’t people, instead of the idiocies they do spend their time on, just walk round LOOKING at things?
All of a sudden I felt kind of thoughtful and philosophic. It was partly because I didn’t have any work to do. My mind went back to the thoughts of war I’d been having earlier that morning. I felt in a kind of prophetic mood, the mood in which you foresee the end of the world and get a certain kick out of it.
Fear! We swim in it. It’s our element. Everyone that isn’t scared stiff of losing his job is scared stiff of war, or Fascism, or Communism, or something.
By the time the 1906 election came along I was old enough to understand it, more or less, and this time I was a Liberal because everybody else was. The people chased the Conservative candidate half a mile and threw him into a pond full of duckweed. People took politics seriously in those days. They used to begin storing up rotten eggs weeks before an election.
Just started reading Coming Up for Air, by George Orwell. Fuck me. It’s hilarious. It’s bleak. I’m in love.
True story I didn’t actually know what ‘flash fiction’ was until quite recently. I was under the assumption it was something written quickly, rather than something that could be read quickly. I had no idea it was just really short stuff. So yeah, not only is all of that flash fiction very short, it was all written on the fly in a couple of minutes. I don’t know if that makes it better somehow or just kind of explains any weaknesses but anyway. Now you know.
Also I think it’d be better if it was just stuff written quickly but then people would cheat wouldn’t they. Weak. Anyway, enjoy, goodnight, whatever.
Go read some of my vignette stuff already. You’ll like ‘em.