Always Eighteen

… and I know it’s been a while, but I thought I’d write to you about everything in the world. I want you to know that I’m doing fine and that once in a while I read the work you send me, those poems and stories and things, and I want you to know that I’m proud of you. I mean, I don’t get most of it, but that’s the point, right? I’m sure that one day, you will have that book and one day I will see your book in the bookstores. But in the meantime, just keep it as a hobby, can you promise that? Is everything okay? Do you have a proper job now? What are you doing for money? How’s everyone else, do you still keep in touch with them? How about XXXXX? I know you’ve asked me thousands of questions and I can’t answer them all but I want you to know that I’m doing fine, that sometimes I go to the beach and that yes, I’m doing fine. I remember this time (you probably don’t, especially with the way things are now between us), when we all went to the beach. You were there with the girls and some of your friends and I was so confused, but I liked to see you smile and have fun. Remember that. Remember that I always wanted you to smile and have fun.

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LOS ANGELES ANGIE - A FREE SHORT STORY

May 6th 2013 00:26

Good news guys! I’ve published two teaser short stories in lead up to my book, Surface Children. You can view the short stories here.

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PART TWO

April 17th 2013 01:08

Time is something you don’t necessarily have to hold on to. I don’t know why, but that evening, last year, when you walked out of the third party we’d been to that week with your stupid friends who didn’t understand us – who didn’t understand me – I couldn’t help but feel hollow – is hollow a feeling? I know I’ve met hurt and anger and happy and glad and all of those others guys before – but hollow? Where does hollow belong? As soon as you left, as soon as the ‘hollow’ came my pleasure in being social and any reason for me to smile and nod and make new friends vanished for good. I stood there in the lonely dark corner of the party and I looked around and I leant on a wall and I fumbled with nothing in my pocket and I thought of excuses to leave and I thought of time; the time it took to call someone, the time it took for a war to end, the time it took for a car to start, the time it took for an evening to rest and an evening to start and for us to die and for us to live all over again. But I stayed, and I stayed, and I stayed, and people came and went and I drank and eventually forgot about you and actually had a good time. As two in the morning came along and as this guy I met some time ago slung against my shoulder and told me how drunk he was I looked out of the balcony of the house on the hill we were in, past the passed out couple on the lawn and past the fences and into the complete black canvas outside. When had it become so completely dark? Were vampires real? Would I be awake in time for breakfast? What am I happy about? What am I sad about?

Read the rest of the post on my new website, Generation End, here.

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LASER EYE LONELINESS

March 29th 2013 02:43

I had this dream once of becoming a successful writer. I’d be smoking a cigarette on top of a pile of money and every day, I’d buy some girl with nice legs a brand new car. Everyone would buy my books: lonely people would buy my books, the downtrodden would buy my books, bored middle-aged housewives would buy my books, high brow people with ‘a passion for the arts’ would buy my books, angsty but introverted teens would buy my books, prostitutes would buy my books, that dick from high school would buy my books – everyone would buy my books, and everyone would be happy because everyone was in my dream, and in my dream I’d be smoking a cigarette on top of a pile of money.

Read the rest of the post on my new site, Generation End, here.

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WE'RE ALL SLAVES TO SOMETHING

March 12th 2013 06:48

I know I’ve been writing about women a lot lately but my story with Natasha is a story I just had to finish. You see, Natasha and I met again a few more times: we had dinner once in a while, we went to an event once in a while, we texted once in a while.

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A BAD CASE OF INSIGNIFICANCE

March 1st 2013 01:22

I had a thing with a girl once. Her name was Come Here. I met her at a car park, and I met her again at a party and I met her for the last time on her uncle’s kitchen floor. There was nothing wrong with her but there was nothing that right either. Her face curved strangely and she swayed like madness: only a few men loved her, but she fell in love with every man she’d meet. “Why can’t you be a werewolf?” she asked me from the bonnet of my car. “When the moon comes out you can like, tear me apart and eat my tits out.” Every time I’d see her, I’d see her through a window, or a windscreen, or through some sad, rising smoke…

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ONLINE DATING

February 11th 2013 19:53

I’d always been suspicious of online dating. To me, online dating was one of those things you secretly did when you’ve completely run out of people to try and impress. Sort of like the first school dance you go to, when you go in expecting you can get anyone you want. When you realise you can’t, you start to lower your standards, little by little, until you finally resort to staring creepily at the strange looking kids in the dark shadows of the dance hall…

But I had a friend who loved online dating and he seemed to be doing okay.

“Dean,” he kept saying, “you’ve got nothing to lose. Sign up to OkCupid. Online dating is a great thing, man. Write one message and just spam it out to every girl there. A few of them will reply, I guarantee you. I’m having my fourth date next week.”

Read the rest of the post on my new blog, Generation End.

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FLOODS AFTER AUSTRALIA DAY

January 30th 2013 11:22

Original image from smh.com.au

I woke up in an apartment near the city with bad breath and that’s about it.

“Morning,” she said.

I sat up. “Morning.”

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” the other she said, covering herself with a pillow.

“Morning.”

I rubbed my eyes and checked my phone. “Did I sleep talk last night?”

Read the rest of the post at Generation End, here.

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THERE'S ALWAYS SOMEONE COOLER THAN YOU

December 9th 2012 21:01

There’s this family friend of mine who has always been better than me. We’re the same age but he’s taller, better looking, more athletic, more successful. He was always the one who easily found a job; he was always the one with cooler looking friends and even better looking girlfriends. I sort of stopped talking to him when we were twenty, when he moved to Melbourne for a job that offered him ninety thousand dollars a year plus commission. I was sort of relieved to never see him again.

One day he called me. “Hey, bro, I’m back in Brisbane. Let’s catch up.”

I drove to his apartment at Kangaroo Point and it looked exactly as I predicted it would look: it was amazing and modern and it was overlooking the river and it was the largest apartment I’d seen in my life.

“I pay over a thousand dollars a week for this,” he said.

“I hope something bad happens to you one day,” I replied.

Read the rest of the post on my new blog, Generation End.

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WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU’VE LOST YOUR JOB

November 26th 2012 21:22

I’d lost the girl and I’d lost the job. What was next?

I started the next morning with a throbbing head; I drank four glasses of water, brushed my teeth, changed my shirt and drove across the universe to reach a McDonald’s. I ordered a McChicken and sat in a quiet spot with nobody around and texted people, asking them how their days were and not mentioning that I would soon have no money again.

My goals were much simpler when I was a kid: watch TV, eat some food, sleep. Because I got decent grades in primary school I somehow believed that life would become easy because of it. I’d go to university and graduate with stellar grades, become a doctor, get into an orgy or two, get married, earn millions. But somewhere along the way I fucked up.

I drove aimlessly around Brisbane for a few more hours until I arrived at The End (it’s not just me being a clever writer – the bar is actually called The End). Vail was there in her tight top and loose skirt, and she smiled when she saw me. I hadn’t spoken to her in a while but I told her everything that had happened and after it all she said, “Honey, that’s shit.”

“I live in a world where I’m not good enough.”

“Everyone lives in a world where they’re not good enough.”

Read the rest of the post at Generation End.