Trainer: “Hey, how did you go with the protein powder?”
Trainee: “Good. So what are we doing today?”
Trainer: “Aaa, heard any dirty jokes lately?
Trainee: “No.”
Trainer: “Wanna watch a movie?”
Trainee: “Shouldn’t we do some weights or something?”
Trainer: “It’s a bit hot.”
Trainee: “I’m sorry, I just don’t think this is working out.”
Category Archives: Writing
An Unstable Tale
I regret to retell an abhorrent tale that I experienced only last week,
I was brought by a clatter, to a house and the matter that forced two once strangers to meet…
I beg your pardon but we hear you are harbouring an arborist.
Who, I? Forsooth, I fear you are mistaken.
I understand you’re making to save your bacon but we see your tree is free of leaves and needs to please be leased overseas for woodchipping and clipping and maybe furniture shipping. So where is the tree lopper?
What? Are you a copper?
Is treason the reason you keep on displeasing this innocent man of the law?
I refuse to reuse my excuses, it’s useless, but you’d back me if you’d seen what I saw.
Is that a pun? We don’t take kindly to that kind of thing, now bring out the felon. Chop chop.
Your wit is a sharp as his axe, but before you take him I should tell you the facts of the matter so you will see it’s a matter of fact that he works to preserve not destroy and, my boy, he could take you down quick as a trap.
The policeman looked stressed and addressed not the logger but the man who stood in the door – I must confess I’m impressed though it was this address that our records directed me for. I feel, in the light of this newly opened canopy, that I should give you a warning, just this once, and no more.
The man looked pleased and with well greased knees took a step out the doorway but slipped on the leaves that had once littered the eaves but now covered the pavement below. Oh heck, as he fell, he considered it well, the space where the great tree had stood, now he observed, somersaulting, that his house, sans door vaulting, had been crushed by the arborist’s wood.
Just sit tight, sang the cop, all this wood that was chopped will need to be cleaned up post haste. I’ll locate the wood chopper if you give me his number and insurance will pick up the waste.
The man groaned and he turned and he kissed the concrete – there never was an arborist. I did it, and I’m proud of this.
But why?
The bees they displeased me and the birds they would mock me and the monkeys…
The monkeys?
There are monkeys no more! I have ended their madness and it is with immense gladness that I find this huge mess around us on the floor.
But your home is destroyed…
But my life is now full!
But you have no insurance…
But I know someone who will!
He then flashed a grin revealing his sin as a second huge pine tree collapsed on the road. On a car. A police car. All white with blue lights and blue trim and shattered glass and crumpled steel and crushed rims.
The officer was not amused, nor was he confused – I’ve changed my mind, since you’re out of yours, I’m taking you in… though we’ll be taking your car.
Fine. But no monkey business. Don’t think I didn’t notice, from the start – your tail!
Existence Stage Left
“Know Thyself” – Delphic maxim
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“No Thyself” – Gautama Buddha
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“Know why self” – Deleuze (postmodern retort)
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“No wine shelf” – IKEA (kitchen cupboard)
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So, here’s the truth about critical existentialism:
It’s all pun and games until someone loses an I.
Noel
‘Twas the week before Christmas
And all through the city
All the people were shopping
And it was not pretty.
All bargains were bought up
The sidewalks a rush
The cafes all bursting
In this Yuletide crush
There was not a moment
Or space left unplastered
By red and green trimming
Which merchants had mastered
The buskers all busking
The trams were all packed
But I must get to working
Before I get sacked.
(Ho ho ho, Santa pun)
Whimper
I have seen the last minds of my generation
Lost to mediocrity
Normalised
Stabilised
Fiscally rationalised
Mere echoes of humanity
The creatives of accounting
Gut busting
Soul rusting
Calorie counting
Silently shouting
And plugged in
Logged on
Drunk and fucked up
Diversely lucked out
And royally won over
Unbent to the common good
Unresolved to fight a fight
Not good, or bad or plain irreverant
Potentially potent
Oppressively opportunistic
Absurdity absolute
These have never been Beings but broad bent bullies of the intellect
Lamenting every attempt
Afraid to try less they fail
Too scared to dream less they fly
And never land
And stare straight into the grand ugly void of the newly conscious
The sign of life which bemoans the density of bouyant self-destructive transformation
Adrift in the wheel of the real
The whirled world
Spiralling ever farther from that heavenly host
Smashed like concrete
Twisted like steel
Filtered like dust
Into the gaping maw of the less of the less of the less of the less obvious
Like leopard print zebras
Drinking lemonade
From a clarinet
Melting like a sunday
Enduring like a Thursday
Backfilling the dock of ages
Flipping like the last high-wire trapese-man
Flat out like the rebellious tap dancer
Crumpled like a two-for-one voucher
Empty as a first generation ipod dock
Filtered like dust
Falling like an angel
Playing on light and shadow
Unseen and revealed
Lost and brilliant
Mediocre
One Wish Left
“You have one wish left.”
Charlie looked around, bewildered. He remembered the beach. He remembered finding the bottle and … he remembered the genie. “One wish?… left? … What do you…?”
The genie smiled politely. “You are entitled to three wishes. You have used two wishes. You have one wish left.”
“…” Charlie opened his mouth, as if to speak.
“And…” The genie continued. “One of the conditions is that you will not remember what you have wished for. After this wish you will be returned to your life uncorrupted by the experience of gambling with a genie, though with all the benefits you have bestowed upon yourself.”
Charlie took a moment to mentally digest this.
The genie was very patient (as genies tend to be – they have aeons of practice).
“So… I can’t know what I’ve already wished for?”
“What you know is what you know.” Replied the unflappable genie.
“But how… what should I…?” Charlie waved his arms as though weighing up invisible options.
“That is entirely up to you.”
“But how do I know what I’ve already wished for? What if I wish for the same thing? What if I already wished for the same thing twice?”
The genie smiled. “Wishing for something twice will not negate it.”
“But… I would have wasted a wish. Maybe I will have wasted two wishes! If I only get three wishes I want them to count!”
“Consider it this way. You now have one wish. You get one wish. Whatever you wish for will be realised. Please make your wish.”
“How can I if I don’t know what I’ve already wished for?”
“Isn’t one wish enough? It must be better than none.”
Charlie stared at the genie but couldn’t read anything beyond his charming exterior. He nodded solemnly. “What would I have wished for? What could I have wanted? Would I have realised when I began wishing that I wouldn’t remember?”
“I explained the conditions to you at the outset. You told me you understood and proceeded to make your first wish. Prior to your second wish I again explained the conditions. Again, you indicated that you understood.”
“If only I knew what I had asked for. Could you tell me?”
“Is that your wish?”
“What? No! What good would that do? I’d know and wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”
“I assure you, the condition is there for your own benefit. You will not want to remember. It is the end effect that matters, not the process whereby you achieve it. Please make your wish.”
“Ok. Let me think.” Charlie sat down in the sand and placed his chin in his hands. The genie continued to float and smile abstractly.
“So what should I wish for? I could wish for money. That’s an easy one. They say money doesn’t make you happy, but I’d like to give it a try.” He looked at the genie for feedback. The genie just remained in mid-air and smiled. “But money can be spent. Not everything can be bought. And I only get one wish. Health is more important. What about immortality? Is that… can I even wish for that?”
“Certainly.”
“But that’s not my wish! Not yet. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
“Of course.” The genie gave no indication of being in a hurry.
“But would that end up being a curse? All these stories you see with miserable immortals. And what if you still deteriorated but couldn’t die? I don’t know, it seems risky. What about superpowers? Could I wish to be able to fly? Or be incredibly strong?”
“You can.”
“But I still don’t know what my first wishes were. Maybe…” Charlie frowned, pushed his hand out in front of his face and concentrated. Nothing happened. “No. Maybe, if I worked this out before, maybe I knew that to make the most of the three wishes I would have to wish for three different things, so I would have worked out what the three most important wishes would be and then wish for them in order. So I should go for the third most important wish now.” He looked up at the genie who just smiled serenely back.
“But I don’t know what those are. So I probably wouldn’t have known then. If only I’d come prepared. You know, have a list of wishes numbered and ready to go, just in case. But I reckon only crazy people do that. Or people with too much time on their hands. … How about time? Can I control time, like time travel?”
“If that is your wish. You had best be specific though.”
“Yeah. I’m a bit worried about being tricked here. I don’t know whether to trust you or not.”
“I assure you, I am merely a facilitator. You are in charge of your decisions.”
“A facilitator? What do you get out of this? Can you grant your own wishes?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Would you like to?”
The genie gave a broader grin. “I do not have the same drives or desires as you. I cannot explain. I have no need of wishes.”
“Could I…” This time Charlie broke into a broad grin, his eyes sparkled with triumph. “Could I wish for more wishes?”
The genie did not react.
“Is that against the rules?”
“No. However, there would be conditions.”
The sound of the last word caused Charlie to shiver. “Why conditions?”
The genie floated a little closer. “There are certain limits at play here, not rules per se, but certain practical restrictions that we cannot transgress. For instance, if you wished the extinction of the universe it would be so, however in the same instance the paradox would resolve itself and reality would resume with but one unremarkable absence.”
“… You mean me?”
“That is correct.”
“So, what I try to do gets done to me?”
“That was a very particular case. There is a balance to be maintained but you can certainly benefit from your wishes.”
“So what would happen if I wished for more wishes?”
“You would get more wishes.”
“And the conditions?”
“You would be forced to respect the limits. But this is also true of three wishes, or one wish.”
“And by ‘forced’ you mean…?”
“Any wish is enacted immediately.”
“And I wouldn’t be able to remember what I wished for?”
“That is a condition.”
Charlie stood up. He paced up and down the beach, staring at his feet as he walked. And at the footprints in the sand.
After a moment he stopped and looked up at the genie. “How long have I been here? … Have I…? …Am I trapped in an endless loop?”
“No.”
Charlie gave a sigh of relief.
“You – have only existed for 3 minutes.”
Doppelgänger
I spend my time searching the world for my doppelgänger. Because I believe that out there, somewhere, is my exact likeness. So one day, when I find him, I can train him to be my stunt double. Imagine the pranks I could pull. Walking with friends, I duck behind a bush only to leap out in front of a car. Wham! Never fear, I am fine. The looks on their faces. Priceless. Ever wanted to be in two places at once? I could do it. There I am, playing video games, but behold, I’m also at work completing all my tasks while juggling razor sharp snake venom machetes. Oh yes, meetings would be a breeze with my doppelgänger on hand to casually leap through a window on command. I wouldn’t even need to line up to get my license photo taken. And then, when the time is right, my doppelgänger stunt double will leap into action, only the car doesn’t stop, or I don’t arrange for the mattress to be placed just so, and my doppelgänger will be no more. I have just faked my own death. Which means that now, I am free. I can assume the identity of my doppelgänger. That guy’s awesome. I don’t want to be me. My life sucks. I spend all my time searching the world for my doppelgänger.
Office party
Suits and umbrellas
Managerial fellas
And strife when the toner is low.
When transport runs late
And the client’s irate
‘Cause the last data entry was slow.
There’s a note on the kettle
Constructed from nettle
Though in language so friendly and sweet.
While the boss is away
The hierarchy’s at play
Weaker players end up on the street.
Did I hit ‘reply all’?
Should I send it again?
Is the deadline for that pile next week?
The staples have vanished
And you’re feeling famished
The phone rings but you don’t want to speak.
We remain in our chairs
Unaware that our cares
Are a speck as the whole world walks by.
But here we refrain
Unperturbed by the rain
Out of fear our bank balance runs dry.
I may have a problem
Yesterday, walking along in one of those free-form swarms of people that forms after waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green, I noticed something just off the side of the footpath. Someone had abandoned a large construction bolt which now lay wedged into the grating of a storm water drain. First I wondered how it was possible that nobody else seemed to have noticed this. Then I wondered if I could use this piece of metal, but couldn’t find any excuse to take it. So I kept walking as the image of the bolt lingered in my mind and my imagination began to filter words, searching, playing, looking for some joke, some witty observation (but it’s a bolt in a drain), some pun… Bolt. “Attempting to bolt.” I smiled and turned back against my fellow pedestrians. I reached for my phone, it doesn’t have a great camera, but it’s always on hand. I reached the spot, the bolt was still there – but the sun was behind me and my shadow obscured the scene. I just need to get to the other side…
That was the moment I caught myself, about to step into midday city traffic. To take a photo. Of a bolt. In a drain. For that terrible pun.
I may have a problem. I think Curio has it in for me.
C.T. Curio 