“He’s a good bloke. Fuck!”
“Not saying he’s not, mate. Just saying he doesn’t know who he is. It’s not a great trait, ya know?”
“‘Doesn’t know who he is.’ You sound like such a pleased cunt when you say that. Just ‘cos you, fucken, found a brand of pants you like - you reckon you’re heaps ‘aware.’”
“Nah-”
“You do! You’ve fully got a compendium under your bed with your personal brand guidelines written down... All fucken journal entries, titles all written in italics: ‘Do I use the word “dude” in Tweets?’ ‘Should I commit to never wearing shoes without laces, ever again?’ You’re a toilet, mate. You’re a toilet with a journal about his own personal brand guidelines - and that’s not a great trait. Is it?”
“My voice doesn’t sound like that.”
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Trying to write like Stan - Part 2
What Stan’s version of a ‘gym’ is.
Dimly lit. Neat rows of dumbells and brown medicine balls, ascending left to right according to weight. A kettle, but no sink. There is a hand-drawn ‘No Smoking’ sign, and also a full ashtray,
In the toilet, men project browny-yellow arcs onto porcelain. The basin is tiny - the kettle has to go sideways to get under the tap. You can never get it more than half full before it spills. Like a public bar’s gents, there is no mirror.
-
“Whattta think?” I said. “Thoughts?”
“It was okay.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t like the mirror bit. Describing something by what it’s not - he just wouldn’t do that. You’re trying too hard.”
“So I’m a tryhard?”
“Yeah. You’re a tryhard.”
Dimly lit. Neat rows of dumbells and brown medicine balls, ascending left to right according to weight. A kettle, but no sink. There is a hand-drawn ‘No Smoking’ sign, and also a full ashtray,
In the toilet, men project browny-yellow arcs onto porcelain. The basin is tiny - the kettle has to go sideways to get under the tap. You can never get it more than half full before it spills. Like a public bar’s gents, there is no mirror.
-
“Whattta think?” I said. “Thoughts?”
“It was okay.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t like the mirror bit. Describing something by what it’s not - he just wouldn’t do that. You’re trying too hard.”
“So I’m a tryhard?”
“Yeah. You’re a tryhard.”
Saturday, April 09, 2011
Trying to write like Stan - Part 1.
You and Stan aren’t talking about the same ‘gym.’
“Just because certain words mean certain things to you, doesn’t mean it's the same for everyone else. We all lead different lives.
In Melbourne a sauna's a brothel ya know? In Adelaide a pint is only the size of a schooner unless you say 'imperial' - anyway - In Hervey Bay a schooner's a fucken boat. Different things, signifiers.”
He paused to light a cigarette.
“Fucken. If you pissed yourself, I’d say you’d pissed yourself.” He said. “Doesn’t mean Stan'd say it like that.”
I stared at my chewed up thumbnail. “What would Stan say?”
“He’d say that you’d ‘done a piss inside your pants.’”
“Then what would he say?”
“He'd say you're a twit.”
“Just because certain words mean certain things to you, doesn’t mean it's the same for everyone else. We all lead different lives.
In Melbourne a sauna's a brothel ya know? In Adelaide a pint is only the size of a schooner unless you say 'imperial' - anyway - In Hervey Bay a schooner's a fucken boat. Different things, signifiers.”
He paused to light a cigarette.
“Fucken. If you pissed yourself, I’d say you’d pissed yourself.” He said. “Doesn’t mean Stan'd say it like that.”
I stared at my chewed up thumbnail. “What would Stan say?”
“He’d say that you’d ‘done a piss inside your pants.’”
“Then what would he say?”
“He'd say you're a twit.”
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