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My name is Dean. I live in Brisbane City.

(Disclaimer: www.alwayseighteen.com contains language and imagery that may be considered offensive).

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NEW WORK FOR THE NEW YEAR

January 31st 2010 13:42


There are a number of reasons why I don’t have a book yet, I told Vail. One reason could be that I’m not writing my cover letters properly. Another could be that I’ve been too lazy, that I haven’t been sending out my manuscripts out to enough publishers and agents. Another reason could be that publishers don’t know what they’re missing out on. Another reason, a very strong reason, could be that my writing is still shit.

She just laughed and adjusted my tie. I liked looking at her when she was standing directly in front of me. She put my portfolio in my hand.

“Now, you bastard,” she said, “go to as many creative directors as possible today and show them all that shit you’ve been working on.”

I didn’t want another copywriting job but she insisted that I looked for one. If you are not making money as a novelist, the only other way to make money while doing what you love is getting into journalism, public relations or advertising copywriting. Somehow I have always chosen advertising copywriting. I’ve learnt that there’s an art to copywriting, a certain writing style you have to master so that you may justify the existence of your job. You can’t just write “BUY NOW! BUY NOW!” to make people buy products, you have to make your ads clever somehow, artistic somehow. “You need to have a great idea,” they always say, “you have to compress days of information into one, catchy phrase.” Companies have large budgets dedicated to copywriters. They have schools dedicated to copywriting. They have awards given to great copywriters. They have books about copywriting, they have books about legendary copywriters.

I adjusted my collar while Vail kept saying things. I was being prep talked by a woman to go and find a job. I truly am growing up.

“Remember,” she said. “Do it for the money. You need the money. Bryce Courtney started in advertising, remember?”

"Bryce Courtney?" I gave her a kiss and left to find work.





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END OF HOLIDAYS

January 17th 2010 15:52

The weekend was not a travesty. The holidays swept by with not much excitement or drama. For some reason I think I’d grown a little taller: things now looked slightly skewed, slightly smaller.

Instead of finding a new job, I decided to spend the rest of whatever I had on a holiday. I took Vail from wherever she was and I drove us both around in her car and we headed west, I think, and then changed our minds and decided to drive northish, by the coastline.

There’s something strange about being with a girl every day. Once you become accustomed to her, she’ll look completely different to how she looked when you saw her for the first time. You’ll spot the better things. You’ll spot the uglier things. We’d change in her car; in the evenings we’d sit in the back seat and fight over what music is playing and we’d take turns poking our heads out of the window on the right hand side of the car and we’d exhale the smoke from our borrowed cigarettes. We slept in a lot of parking lots and street sides. I wished I was lying when I told her that I still liked her.

We didn’t watch the fireworks. I didn’t know when the new year arrived. I was sleeping somewhere, I don’t remember. When I woke up, Vail whispered that we were two days into January. She asked me what my resolutions were and I asked her what the hell hers were.


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CHRISTMAS SHOPPING

December 15th 2009 15:50



I hadn’t seen Vail and Jude and all that in some time so I was quite happy to join them for what I thought would be “light Christmas shopping.” Together, they purchased two iPhones, two iPods, one Blackberry something, one Nokia N97, one Samsung something, three thousand five hundred something dollars worth of clothes and accessories, and a thousand dollar watch. Vail bought me a two hundred dollar pair of jeans.

After that hell we went to a Starbucks, in the city.

“You know what’s pissing me off?” Jude said as he finished eyeing someone walk past. “Fat women. They’re everywhere. They’re multiplying. And what’s worse is that there are fat men. Fat men piss me off the most. Disgusting pigs.”

Vail, texting, completely ignored him. She suddenly realised something and touched my arm. “Where are you going this New Years? The Valley?”

“I’m spending it with my parents.”

“You have to come to the Valley, Dean.” She continued texting as she said this. “You just have to. How are your parents, anyway? You never talk about them.”

I looked at the both of them. The world adores the wealthy. We pay to watch movies and shows about the wealthy. We pay to read books about the wealthy. We pay to take classes on becoming wealthy. We pay money to simply appear wealthy. We pay to make the wealthy even wealthier.

Jude and Vail aren’t actually that wealthy compared to others. There are people out there who can fly to space. There are people out there who own countries.

“I love you guys,” I said finally.

Vail put her mobile down. “Well, I love you too.”

“I love you too, man.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah that’s it,” I said. “Merry Christmas.”



gucci






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HOW TO QUIT WORK INSTANTLY

December 7th 2009 11:01


I did not like my boss.

She’s this short, overweight woman who doesn’t brush her hair and only chooses to scream at the girls in the office. Although she’s impressively smart and passionate about what she does, there’s something about her that depresses everyone she comes in contact with.

“This is all your fault! This is all your fucking fault!” She screamed at our eighteen year old intern on her first day of work.

I worked from nine til nine and a large portion of every day was filled with her screaming. Three girls and two men had cried since I started. Two staff members quit after my third week of working. Five have agreed to stay only until January. Once, I heard that three of my boss’s senior staff members decided to quit on the same day just to damage the company and insult her. The only person who’s stayed in the agency for longer than six months is a pretty, curly haired girl who never speaks to anyone besides the boss.

“Why the hell won’t you speak to me?” I asked her once, but all she did was tell me to fuck off.

After work, late in the evening, my boss would often sit in the office’s movie room and watch the season 1 DVD box set series of Fringe over and over again. She coughs a lot; she coughs deep, phlegm-filled coughs. My officemates and I looked through her computer one day and found that she registered for quite a large number of dating websites. She laughs like an innocent child does. She wears short dresses and does not cross her legs, especially when she talks to us. She brings the office newspaper into the toilet with her. She has a terrible smell in the evenings; she smells like a combination of sex and shit.

I decided to quit on a Wednesday. I asked her if I could talk to her privately, so she brought the both of us to the meeting room.

“I can’t take it,” I told her. “I no longer want to work here.”

She smiled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she kept smiling. “Then that’s fine.”

“Yeah thanks for everything and sorry to let you down.”

Walking out of the office for the last time, I wondered what the hell I was going to do for money.





dinosaur






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A VERY SHORT STORY ABOUT ETHAN

November 29th 2009 14:55





Ethan claims that he is the type of guy who isn’t sentimental about things. He’ll go to places but won’t take photos. He’d work and then go home. He’d laugh but not remember why he laughed a week later. Ethan studied overseas for four years, and when he returned home, he was unemployed for one year. Frustrated, he returned overseas. He worked for a while in post production for a porno company. He never got to meet the girls. He is now an engineer for a German company. What kind of engineer, don’t ask me. He gets angry quite quickly; he doesn’t mind threatening people once in a while if he believes that he is right and the other person is wrong. He is often right and the other person is often wrong. He decided to become an atheist at one point in his life. It was a point when everything was supposedly terrible. As a kid, Ethan loved a few things, one of which included a toy someone gave him for Christmas. He has a wife and a child, but they don’t live in this country. He can support them much better here.

You never see what Ethan does inside his room. Normally, after you’d knock, you’d just see him as he comes out, in his singlet and trousers, and when he spots you he’ll say something along the lines of, “Are you ready?”




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GIRLS DO NICE THINGS FOR YOU

November 26th 2009 03:53

I was looking through a lot of old photos just then, and realised that girls do nice things for you. I once went out with a girl who cooked a special, candlelit, gourmet dinner for me in the backyard. She once came over, smiling, with a big toy lion in her hands, and said that she bought it in a Greek festival because it reminded her of me. She listened to the CD I made her to keep her motivated when studying, she burnt my short stories and cried herself to sleep after I screwed everything up. This other girl created a giant book for me before I left Brisbane once; she’d organised for all of my friends and relatives to write letters for me and attach them to it. She also spent several sleepless nights building me things like lockers and giant pillows and objects for my room (I have no idea why she loved making giant objects so much). Eva once brought me to a rooftop where she prepared dinner for the both of us. She snuck me into a golf course at midnight on my birthday and brought along party hats for the both of us to enjoy. She’d bring small candles with us every time we’d eat out for dinner, and then she’d place them on our table and light them.

From my experience, I’ve found that men only seem to do these sweet gestures when they’re chasing the girl – but once they have the girl, everything ends and they become drunken idiots. On the other hand, women tend to become more romantic after falling in love.




nice things






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DON MCLEAN

November 16th 2009 01:32


It was one of those mornings when you wake up and you think about things and you don’t think about things, and you’ve overslept by four or so hours and you’re feeling a little down and strangely tired and once in a while, there will be a few strands of questions: Isn’t there something better? Should I buy a new shirt? How much time have I wasted?

It took me another hour to wake up. I exercised a little bit. I cleaned my room and my place a little; Devon was coming over with a bottle of wine because I had some good news.

“I had an epiphany,” she told me when she finally arrived in the late evening. “I’m going to grow up.”

“What a strange epiphany.”

“I mean it. I’m going to grow up.” She poured herself some more wine. “Anyway what was your news?”

“I got hired for a full time job.”

Devon didn’t look impressed. “And for which McDonald’s is this?”

“Dickhead. I’ll be working for a marketing agency.”

“Doesn’t that go against everything?”

“They need a creative writer and I need some money.”

We had a few more drinks and spoke a little more about life. I told her that I’ve been speaking to Eva once in a while and she told me not to, that it’s trouble and hurt. Devon walked over to the stereo, browsed through a few of my old CDs, and found a Don McLean album I took from home. I was kind of glad that she did. She played Vincent and we said nothing. She played Empty Chairs and we said nothing. She played And I Love You So and we said nothing.

I finally decided to speak. “So what are you doing next weekend?” And so the conversation and the drinking continued for the rest of the night.






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BENEFITS OF BEING SICK

November 9th 2009 16:01



After Eva left I became awfully sick, not because Eva left but because I had eaten something pretty cruel the night before. I vomited and shitted and could barely move; the worst part of it was the night when my skin turned red and I could barely breathe. People kept dropping by, too, for no real reason but to eat my food and talk and laugh and not notice that I was drying.

“Can’t you see I’m sick?” I yelled at Jude, who decided to bring about four guys over for drinks.

“You know,” Jude said, “the best cure for food poisoning is milk.”

“Who told you that?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “just drink some milk.”

“Really?”

“Yes really.”

I drank some milk and vomited it all out ten minutes later.

What the hell is it with getting sick? Why is it such a pain in the arse? I tried to get better by sweating it all out, so one night I wore three sweaters under three or so blankets and sweated and sweated.




being sick







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LOVE IN 3 DAYS

October 25th 2009 05:21


I met Eva in a park in Kelvin Grove, sitting on a bench. She smiled.

“Hi, Dean.”

“Hi, Eva.”

There was a hug, and then a scanning over of each other.

“You look… exactly the same.”

“Shut up.” I touched her hair. “You’ve done something to your hair.”

She looked proud. “You like it? I spent ages trying to get it curled like this.”

I didn’t really know what to do. Eva was there, sitting on a bench in front of me and I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to keep standing?

“So how long are you here for?” I decided to ask while standing awkwardly.

“Three days. I was only supposed to be here for one, for Rosaline’s birthday, but I thought I’d see how Mr. Dean is up to… you know, if he was still ticking.”

We walked to my car and after a little bit of arguing, I let her drive. She pulled her car seat forward, adjusted the mirrors and changed the radio station. She giggled about something and reversed the car.

“So is your car in Sydney far better than mine?”

“Of course it is. Mine’s brand new.”

We drove for a long time. We drove around the Valley, we drove around neighbourhoods. I didn’t ask her where she wanted to end because there was simply no time to. Our words simply flowed and flowed and flowed.

“I can always be myself when I’m with you, Dean.”

At a red light she touched my hand but quickly let go. Eva was wearing a short, blue dress and sunglasses and a million accessories. She was offensively beautiful. I put my hand on her leg and made my way upwards as she drove on.

“What’s his name?” I asked her. “This boyfriend of yours.”

“Would you even really care?”

“Of course I would.”

“I broke up with him once, you know, because of a friend. But now…”

“You know what, fuck it I don’t want to hear about him whatsoever.”

“If you want to at least be friends, honey, you wouldn’t get so wrapped up in your own ego.”

We found my home. Eva parked the car and we headed inside.

She quickly flashed me, briefly exposing pink underwear. “You like these? I bought them for two bucks.”

“Loving you has always been difficult.”

We rushed into my home and I tried to show her how things inside my life had changed. But she looked in every corner and made me realise that everything had merely lured dust and more dust. I wrapped my arms around her hips and she did the same with mine. I tried to kiss her but she moved her face away.

“I want to kiss you, for fucks sakes! I want to kiss you forever!”

“You expect that line to always work?” She yelled.

“Well it’s not working right now, is it?”

“What’s with those girls, Dean? Why do you never tell me about those girls?”

“There’s nothing to say. There’s never anything to say.”

“I have to go home. I want to go home. Drive me home.”

“You don’t mean that,” I said.

“You try me, you dick, you try me!”

“Well?” I said. “Didn’t we once promise we’d marry each other?”

“Seriously, baby. If there was such a thing as love then nobody would need to pray for heaven.”

I chased her around my world and she giggled as if nothing. I held her hand and she let me. I brought her closer and she let me go, I brought her closer again and she let me go again. I once told her about the nights I couldn’t sleep because of her. She once told me about the nights she’d dream of me.

“You always promise me you’ll move to Sydney, but you never do.”

“You always promise me a lot of things, too.”

“Yeah, like what?”

I didn’t say anything.

She led me to my bed and I thought I’d become a truly happy man.

“Remember that book we half-read together? That Hemingway book?”

“The Sun Also Rises. What about it?”

There was silence.

“I’m sorry for all the things I’ve done,” I said rather sadly.

We were lying down, sideways. Eva scanned my face over and tapped her thumb all over my lips. “If I kiss you again, things will only turn for the worst.” She pulled my bottom lip a little. “Why are things always like this?”

“I blame the fat people.”

There was more silence.

“You’ll get published one day, honey,” Eva eventually whispered in my ear, and at that I hated myself. Eva was the girl who saw my biggest failures. She was there when I entered competitions and lost them all. She was there when I’d been interviewed and rejected. She was there when I lost things, ruined things, when I lied the most. The first time I kissed her was in my car. She was wearing a black t-shirt and a pink bra and once in a while we both caught each other opening our eyes.

Who was the bad kisser just then, I asked, was it you, or me, or a bit of the both of us?

If there ever was a moment where I could come back in time to change things, it would be then, during that first kiss, underneath that spotlight in my car as the two of us still trusted each other.

Eva didn’t stay the night. I drove her back to her friend’s house and gave her one more hug before letting her go.





Eva driving






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HAIL IN BRISBANE

October 14th 2009 00:47



It was around three in the afternoon and it was hailing outside and Jude was sitting next to me, smoking with one hand and holding the remote with the other, putting the volume up and down, up and down, as we watched channel V on his enormous plasma screen television. He kept asking me about bands:

“Have you seen Temper Trap?”

“Do you think Jamie T is handsome?”

“What do you think of the Bloody Beetroots?”

“Dean, Dean, look at this video. Isn’t it the fucking shit?”

But I ignored him. I was bored and I was drifting. I tried to start a relationship with Melanie when I returned from Japan but it was failing. I wanted to tell her things, I wanted to tell her stories, I wanted to provide excited elaborations about what was happening in my life but nothing would come out; all that came out were bursts of one-liners. In the end we would always fight.

“I don’t know where I’m heading,” I told Jude. “Where am I heading? What’s the end? What’s the season finale?”

Jude nudged me. He was smiling. “Let’s take our shirts off and run around in the hail.”

We took our shirts off and walked to the door. We stood there for a while, not saying anything.

“Should we really?” was all I could ask.

Jude shrugged.

We opened the door and ran outside. We ran around the lawn, screaming in pain or what we thought was pain. We ran back inside, laughed, cried a little bit, and then didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the day.









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