THE ALARM NO-ONE SET

Every morning between the ages of 60 & 70, she woke up crying. A few days into her 70th year it stopped only to be replaced within a week by hiccups. She put the tears down to the polyester quilt. As for the hiccups, she had her own cure: to make herself cry.

RAY OF OUTSTANDING NATURAL BEAUTY

The world is over-reported. The same few fear-fed stories circulate with different hair styles. If Reuters & co looked a little harder for their news, they might discover brilliance at work and at play. Today I saw a ray of light that would have brought Caravaggio to his knees and Steven Hawking to his feet. In less than a second it was gone. Celestial miracles don’t hang about. True beauty, like happiness, is transitory. If you want a short, sweet dose of either, give the news a miss.

GRIPPERSTRIP GALLERY

  1. Lay gripperstrip over every square inch of the gallery floor, walls and ceiling.
  2. Provide slippers for private view of ‘Unmade Bed of Nails’.
  3. Sublet gallery to acupuncturist.
  4. Host self-harm disco on last night.

THE DENSITY OF URINE

Seriously. It weighs more the further north you go. Next time you pee in Orkney, watch you don’t crack the porcelain.

THE WOMAN WHO CAUGHT BULLETS

She gave a massage to every stranger that crossed her path, in queues, on trains, in crowds, wherever a back appeared, a knot fled. The epicentre of Sao Paolo crime eased during her lifetime. A spinster until her death, 4.5 million patients rubbed her coffin goodbye.

11:11

This is the time the ellipse struck in 2000 or was it 1999. The date matters less than the time. 11:11 is the most commonly seen time on a digital clock and no-one knows why. One ‘why’ might be that this is the time when big stuff is most likely to happen. It is the time that noon wishes it still was, before it too conformed. Now I’m no Derren Brown but next time you glance at a clock, it will be 11:11. That is an hour and a minute from now.

IN FEAR OF SHADOWS

A Muslim by chance, he awoke each morning on the stroke before sunup and walked headlong towards the sun, tracing its arc until sundown. He never did make it to Mecca, but found his own inner peace, when at 83, he finally shook off his shadow.

HAUNTED TITLE

I wish I hadn’t read this

THE WORLD IS A MESS AND IT’S ALL MY FAULT

Sorry.

I’ll fix it by Friday or your money back.

WRITING BEGETS WRITING (# 74,949)

So that’s how an amputee feels. No arms to type when thoughts flood the mind. Just a backlog of wannabe brilliance curdling in the head, mouth and heart. But when the arms return, we see why we also refer to weapons as arms. The action is a rapid fire process. The imagination is the ammunition. Every punch of a key sends a Mexican wave of confidence to its neighbour. The keys sit up like begging pups awaiting a pat on the head. The secret to writing anything good is to write anything. Nothing begets nothing. Something begets something. Everything begets everything.

Next Page →