Cheers bastard. It's a nice wee conceit, isn't it? (Con-seat.)
Titus - short can be dangerous i.e. underwhelming and vague. But if you have the right moments, you can capture a heart beat, in the shake of your blouse. I got your book through, and rachel's, I'm reading them both. How long were you in the police force for? I would love to read more about that. I'm enjoying the insight into your life and your sensibility.
brokenbarman - I rememeber the grey plastic chairs we had to sit in everyday at school. Those seats were just like so many people - generic and uncomfortable and relentless.
In "the job", as we pretentiously called it, for eleven years before my heart was stolen by a Scotsman and he reived me away to Nithsdale. Though I loved work, I loved him more.
I long to write something about the funny bits, as I recall spending so much time laughing, but as soon as I set pen to paper the black stuff comes out. Funny stuff better as prose, maybe. A novel one day. I suspect there's a market for that sort of stuff ....
7 comments:
Aye, but they rarely come fae Glasgow, more towards the east coast if the truth be known.
Concise and to the point. I liked it.
So did I.
Not the greatest fan of the very short poem but this is telling, in the best sense.
but they get their own back,
in a certain way,
by being uncomfortable for long periods of time
Yahoo! The book arrived today. Has the opposite occurred yet?
Hello aeveryone.
Cheers bastard. It's a nice wee conceit, isn't it? (Con-seat.)
Titus - short can be dangerous i.e. underwhelming and vague. But if you have the right moments, you can capture a heart beat, in the shake of your blouse. I got your book through, and rachel's, I'm reading them both. How long were you in the police force for? I would love to read more about that. I'm enjoying the insight into your life and your sensibility.
brokenbarman - I rememeber the grey plastic chairs we had to sit in everyday at school. Those seats were just like so many people - generic and uncomfortable and relentless.
cheers me dears.
In "the job", as we pretentiously called it, for eleven years before my heart was stolen by a Scotsman and he reived me away to Nithsdale.
Though I loved work, I loved him more.
I long to write something about the funny bits, as I recall spending so much time laughing, but as soon as I set pen to paper the black stuff comes out.
Funny stuff better as prose, maybe. A novel one day. I suspect there's a market for that sort of stuff ....
Those seats were just like so many people - generic and uncomfortable and relentless.
now this i like, big man. i see people like this every day, so frightened to be someone they just fade into insignificance. scary....
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