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Friday, November 4, 2011


Extract from 'Bed. Time. Story.'

A plane throbs in the distance many miles above. Long past now. Fifth form science says so. Sound waves dispersing more slowly than light waves. His penis shrinks away from the space in his fingers. 
This silent sibilant speech, he thinks. All these ‘esses’, they make him want to piss. It’s like onomatopoeia of the mind. He really should write that down. What day is it? Tuesday. Need to get a warrant for the car he resolves. The car.


Long drives on tarseal roads. The engine hums vibrations through soft seats and Julie 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.