Death to Smoochy

There was an ice skating scene with a Barney the dinosaur knockoffplayed by Edward Norton and a clown played by Robin Williams. I was watching it hungover. It was in the afternoon. On analogue television a long time ago and I thought it was pretty great at the time.

It was out of all context. Just a holiday to someplace.

You know Dany Devito made films?

Bad Scans

Film. Love to shoot it. What a drag it is to get your negatives back with some shitty 500kb scans with the crunchiest compression though.

I held out on posting these images while I decided whether it would be worth sending the negs off for a proper scanning treatment. I’d already paid enough though.

Hey, its a staff party on the gold coast! All booze, skyscrapers and shitty cocaine.

I was working the next morning so I took it a bit easy by drinking my red beetle-juice and ducking out when things got loose.

The Sun, It Rises

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I was so worked up.

Driving down the main drag. A two lane, road riddled with potholes and traffic lights they have the audacity to call a highway. Arms beading with sweat, hot air blasting me in the face. The tip of my tongue burned as I took a hard drag from my hastily rolled cigarette.

Head full of bullshit no good thoughts running in a loop. This music was no good. I needed something mellow to un-knot my brainpad before it goes full meltdown. I flick though the phone and fumble my cigarette. It falls between into the leg-hole of my shorts falling all the way back to my damp ass. It burns.

Red Light.

I brake hard. Stop hard. The guy behind me nearly goes right into me. Horns. I hate them, obnoxious. When they’re directed at me though, it’s funny. Even if I’m the biggest dickhead in the world, the guy on the horn looks like a bigger one. The cigarette has burnt me a new asshole. I reach into my crotch, pull it out and take a drag. Then I laugh a little. The lights go green.

The suns at the nice point where all the tall buildings are real orange and the streets are dark wth shadows. I’ve pulled the car over and sit on the hood for a bit looking at the scene. Red taillights going towards red lights. White lights coming the other way. Neon signs turing on and an LED billboard in the distance looking like a second sun Rising from the west. I like Neon Signs. The inventor of LED billboards should be dragged behind a horse-cart.

Yeah, it much better scene to looks at than be a part of. What had me so worked up? Some really small shit. Something I would build up into an elaborate story to complain to someone about at some point, but it was pretty insignificant. And it was petty to get so jacked up over it. Sometimes, you are the problem. You’re the badguy, the dickhead or in this case the jackass customer wants to bitch to two jerks about how they fucked up your order and how now you got to make TWO trips instead of one.

 

Wood Chips

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It’s another Monday in the kitchen. The weekend rush is over, now its time to get to work organising the kitchen for the week ahead, to restock the cold room and unpack the largest, bulkiest delivery of the week, which is comprised of dry goods and long holding products, like cheese. The washing machine is on the fritz and the frier needs and oil change too but thats enough mundane detail from the life we chose to live. As thrilled as I know you are to hear it.

I’m joined by Tommy Gun the cool Kiwi who is slicing very ripe tomatoes as I unpack the delivery.  Now join me as I run my knife along the packing tape of a box to reveal a collection of goats cheese logs…

I pick up the perfectly round cylinder and flip in in my palm, slapping it down on the bench to grab Toms attention.

“What do you think of this Goats Cheese we’re using?”

Tom shot me a downcast look, “Not great bro, I don’t really dig it hey”

“The taste?”

“Yeah there’s something about it, hey. Its not right”

“Yeah its shitty alright” I roll another roll onto the bench

“You know what it tastes like? Its like a goats cheese made by a robot in a some kind of, not too distant, dystopian future where automation has progressed to a point where all food production has been taken over by robots.”

“Yeah, its got no soul!” Tommy exclaimed excitedly.

“And it tastes like plastic too… Cheap though.” I say, with a resigned shrug.

I bundle up the rolls and grab some other bits and make my way to the cool room. Outside the clouds are rolling in, creeping over the sunshine. A few customers are walking up the steps, two by two. Another trucks pulled in with the fruit and veg. He’s fudging about in the back of the truck, no doubt somethings missing, I’ll deal with that the on the way back in…

Across the road the last rays of light hit the ocean as the traffic begins to back up through the intersection.

And I step off the steamy street, into the cool air of the walk-in.

Green Thumb

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It takes a lot of neglect to kill an aloe vera plant. I came pretty close. I neglected them until they turned brown and rubbery. Sitting in the shade next to a 6 pack of bottles stuffed with cigarette buts. Ants crawling all over them.

The ants had been getting busy for a few weeks. Thick air. Storms were coming.

Summer.

I dragged those pots from the patio onto the lawn and took my seat on the patio. Brown Aloe Vera wont help my sunburn much. No sir.

The heavens opened for a week straight.

Purple flashes against black skies. The crackle of the McDonald drive-through and a light rain hitting my feet.

Day after day.

Ash Tray Hearts

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I knew it was going to be a bad one. I knew it when I stirred and found my eyes stuck together in a coagulated mix of conjunctivitis and sand from the beach. The Party. I didn’t know didely-do-shit about what went down. My phone was dead. And the room? Trashed.

Who was this glassy eyed fuck looking back at me in the mirror? What did you do shithead? he asked aloud sending a spasm of pain reverberating around my skull. He winced. I had that dread in the guts. Real tight.

When the dry heaving was done I felt marginally better and though to get a move on. Whose house was this anyway?

The sun kills. Burning through my Burger King happy meal Wayfarer knockoffs. I’m a greasy stinking pile of shit going down the main drag to Burleigh Town. There’s a stain on my chino’s that makes it appear like I’ve pissed myself. I probably did. Piss doesn’t stain though. Does it? Fuck.

I’m hurting and sweating and stumbling down the highway. I’m regret imbued in flesh. I lean behind a  tattoo parlour and have a little heave. I go inside and ask for some water.

Four hours later and I’m back on the baking pavement. It was cool in there. Empty too. The guy was bored so he gave me a good rate. So I got my forearm covered. Fuck it. Freestyle, I said. The needle took the rest of the pain away. He gave me a beer and I nodded off…

Now looking at it, I see a scrawling dagger stabbing a cartoon bat or something with a skull shooting lazers going all the way around hitting some kind of egg thats cracked and a fried egg is coming out of it… It looks like something my nephew would draw. Its pretty sick. I’m a sick cunt alright.

So I’m back stumbling along the road. cars are buzzing past and I get this mad headspin like, woooah which way is up, dizzy. Then I’m on the deck. tonguing tarmac, watching something shiny flying right for my face.

And now I’m dead? Right?

No. Fuck no.

I’m in hospital.

Two broken legs and a fractured pelvis.

That bus nearly flipped though. Tried to miss me but ran right over my dick, up the curb and into the bus stop. There’s fair few other people here from the ‘incident’ as they’re calling it. I got a suicide councillor jabbering in my ear, a law talking guy jabbering in the other and I’m wishing the nurses would hook me up with one of those buttons I could mash to give myself a bit of that ‘(5α,6α)-7,8-didehydro- 4,5-epoxy-17-methylmorphinan-3,6-diol’ know what I’m saying?

Yeah, thats nearly the whole thing. Never should have went out last night. Never shoulda pissed my chinos and trashed some fellas room while I puked all over it. Never would have been cock blocked by 20 tonnes of Council property either.

Thats life but. I cant not be a rad piece of shit.

I’m fucking sick.