Welcome. Anonymous Author holds a mirror to the face of humanity, asking what it really means to be human,

and in doing so blurs the line between what is good and bad writing.



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Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Manifest.


Don't let your illness manifest itself in startling confessions via public notices.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Sequential.


The Fibonacci Ellipsis . .. ... ..... ........ ............. ..................... ..................................

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Distance.

The most effective measure for dealing with difficult people is distance, he whispered reclusively to nobody.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

That.


That that is is that that is not is not that that is that that is is not true is not true, he said with lexical ambiguity. And he meant it.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Unknown.

"An idea unknown in the state of nature must be a human invention," Kelly offered strongly to the audience. Feet shuffled uncomfortably under seats and there were one or two coughs that sounded like they were filling silence for the sake of it. Distressed, she looked down at the page and realised she had transposed the notes for her film script with her catholic Aunt's eulogy. She glanced sideways and noticed the priest's face had reddened, a distinctly unchristian countenance pushing aside his usually pious expression.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Holiday.


...long drives on tarseal roads. The engine hums vibrations through soft seats and Julie, his younger sister, babbles excitedly about her first family holiday. Tearing past sports grounds and small towns and tussock paddocks full of sheep and cows and, if the fences give it away, deer, even though he never sees the deer. They don’t like standing near the road, maybe. The beach, the beach! Julie yells. A second person is in the front now. Two shadowy figures. One driving – must be dad, and one sleeping – must be mum; but they change like smoke into shapes of teachers and priests and friends and strangers, and it doesn’t really matter who they are. The car suddenly swerves across the centre line on a collision course with another. The nebulous driver smiles... 

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Monday, August 8, 2011

Poem.

Spurious Meta Facts
Each second future reality advances on us
pushes aside fiction and settles in place.

Our minds are prismatic; infinitely sided.
Multiplying the reflections of 
silent thoughts 
sonorant words 
and spurious meta facts.

Consider the development of philosophical thinking –
Illustrate its significance through the use of shadow puppets. 
Compare this with other kinds of thinking in other species. 
Contrast the advancement of humans with that of viruses.

Fabricated organisms evolve from murkiness: 
light shines into other-worldly corners.
Tumbleweeds of matted hair and dust 
trap salacious episodes of history.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Present.

The seats of the car smell like the promise of childhood. During those early endless summers he can’t remember it crossing his mind that he would like to be a father. Now it is such a responsibility. It daunts him daily. He wonders if his father thought about the things he does now. If so, he never let on. Simon remembers John always just getting on with life. No soul searching or crises of confidence. He recalls once reading a pejorative reference as to how an idle life can too easily descend into the existential and the metaphysical. He sees those philosophies as an ascension, a positive. But if that’s true, he puzzles, why does abstract consideration of past and future render the present terrifying?

Monday, August 1, 2011