Quite Intelligent

I am staying up late watching re-runs of
re-runs of QI that make me feel
quite intelligent.

I like watching Alan Davies’s curly
hair flop around his pretty face as he smiles
unwittingly or acts innocently
in his Essex boy persona;
getting the answers wrong and constantly
setting off the buzzer and flashing backdrops
as Stephen metaphorically pats his head
saying ‘Alan you darling boy.’


I like answering the questions correctly
before Stephen has finished reading them out,
smiling, sometimes, at the quips and jokes
that I didn’t get the first time around.

Now and then I remember how I hated their smug
intelligence and weapons of knowledge
that emanated from their smiling mouths
and tied eyes as they calculate their points
and press their funny buzzers.

Mog

Rabbit Holes

I walked alone down a dark passageway.  There was no light at all other than a thin sliver far in my vision.  I walked blindly towards it, feeling the wet slimy wall to my left for balance.  The ground was hard and I was not wearing shoes.  A thin film of water passed between my toes and swelled upward as each footstep slapped onto the floor.  I stepped across a small grove, which I thought could be an edge to the floor tiles that were still not in my vision.  The wall became furrier the further I continued until what I assumed to be moss was like soft matted fur entwined into my fingers.  I walked for what seemed like hours following the sliver of light.  Small creatures occasionally brushed past my feet, their wet noses sniffing at my ankles.

Finally I reached the sliver of light and found it to be a crack in a door.  The door felt old and gnarled.  I skated my fingers across the bumpy surface searching for the handle, but found none.  I slumped to the floor exhausted.  I could feel the moisture seeping through my trousers and reaching for my underwear.  It felt as though I had wet myself and the sensation only added to my frustration. 

A noise creaked through the corridor.  The door beside me began to shift and open for the first time since I had arrived.  Out of the creaking came a soft squeaky voice.

“…Well as I said to the Great Sceptre, it’s not about remuneration.  It’s the principle of thing.”

“Yes,” boomed a deep resonant voice in reply.

“I mean it’s not every day you get accosted by a hamster,” the light dimmed as the shadowy figures moved into the doorway.  “And to think that he only received six weeks community service.”

“But you must understand,” replied the booming voice, “six weeks is longer in hamster years than it is in yours.  It’s the equivalent of ten years, less if his owner is a small human.”

As they made their first steps into the corridor the passage was filled with light from an unknown source above.  I could now see the intricate pattern of the tiles through the lightly rippling clear liquid surface of the floor.  They were vibrant colours that felt lit from within.  Figures danced across them in strange costumes and animals walked amongst them.  The walls were covered in moss but it looked beautiful bathed in light.  The two figures in the doorway took my breath away.  An elephant and cheetah were walking towards me, having a conversation.  The elephant had wide shoulders and a brutish form.  Around his neck was tied a red scarf.  The cheetah was slender and graceful in his movements each paw soundlessly padding the floor. 

“True but still, I think something should…” The Elephant paused and I realised too late that if I could see them, then they could also see me.  The elephant had turned and spotted me crouching on the wet floor.  “Who the hell are you?”

“Erm,” I said trying to gain my composure.

“Well this is just typical.”  The elephant turned and regarded Julius the cheetah with an exasperated expression.  “See what the bureaucracy has come to, they’re even letting humans down here now!”  

He pushed past me without a care, treading on my toes with one of his hind legs.  He swivelled his head back and gave me a disgusted look, shaking his leg as though he had something nasty stuck to it. 

“Really Augustus, you are behaving terribly rude today.”  The cheetah helped me to my feet.  “Do forgive him, he’s had a spot of bad news.”

“I heard, was it a serious attack?” 

“Well, it was not entirely the hamster’s fault if I’m honest.”  Julius tried to whisper but his voice carried easily through the passage.  Augustus reared around, banging his rear and pinching one of his ears against the wall in the confined space.  I let out an involuntary giggle and then stifled it. 

“Are you insinuating that it was my own fault that that lowlife brigand attacked me in the street?”  His eyes were screwed into little black balls that glinted with malice in the light.  I decided it was wise for me to leave. 

I pushed open the door and darted past the cheetah.  As the door hushed closed I could here the placating sounds of Julius:

“Now sweetheart, you know I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You always do this, you never stand by me.  Like when I was ill, you went off with Colin for the weekend.  I knew I should have left you then.  I should have listened to my mother, she told me you’d never change your spots.”  His voice was even higher now and bordering on the ridiculous.

“I’m a cheetah.”

“Exactly!”

I turned away from the door and looked out into the light.  The door bumped me in the bum and woke me up.

JC

Man & Boy ?

This is an image I created during my second year at Uni. I have always liked the image although it is a trifle too manipulated. My problem has always been that I have never been able to find a appropriate title for the image. Man and boy is only for this blog. I handed it in as untitled. The image still has an impact on me although I am not sure why.

Any ideas for a title.

M☻g

The Pale faced Daughter

The pale faced girl stands front stage, middle. She cries to the camera. Her aunty pushes the microphone close to echo every sob. Centre show, the mirrored finished gold plated 250K coffin reflects his family. Billions standby watching, revelling in their hysterical grief, weeping for lost talent, weeping for pop songs and musical horror videos.

Who will they read about in their daily news?

Who will provide paparazzi scandals of changing colour and sexual misdemeanours?

The pale faced girl sobs for her moon walking dad, her childhood star, surrounded. And damaged. Her Michael buys children and proudly states he sleeps with boys. Naïve. Rich. Extravagant. The crowd has memories of Bubbles and Ben ; a balcony child; white gloves and skinny black legs. Remembering the busting talent and betrayal.

This lost child died alone, just like his ex-father-in-law, Elvis.

M☻g

LOADED IMAGES

Loaded = Power!

Missing photography!

Luna