January 2012
8 posts
What's wrong with Betty?
Among my acquaintance are two who take their kit off for money. The first is a straight girl I went to high school with; after some initial success as a grid-girl, she now appears in Zoo magazine. The second is a bi girl who I met in Baltimore; she moved up from burlesque to actual stripping while exploring her own sexual liberation. Although many would say that the second is the more licentious...
A Freebie
Lately I’ve been a little preoccupied with gender equality. It’s something I think about a bit, and it annoys me that most of the discussion is about the ways men ruin things for women. Today I’m going to sway the balance just a little by telling you all what, in my opinion, is the stupidest way in which women are sexist towards men:
We will only let you have two emotions. You...
On Foresight
Walking in on my friends and I doing each other’s hair in increasingly avant garde styles for the high school disco, my mother declared: “Stacey why don’t you try something new and different, like a bun?” Hearing her describe perhaps the most boring and dowdy of hairstyles in such a way was so hilarious, that it’s since become something of a catch phrase with those of...
Simile #15
“Earthquake in your pajamas, huddled in doorways while your houses sway. Blue blood, pumping like a hunter’s fist.”
Cold War Kids, Relief. This one is a little like simile#7, in the way that it doesn’t really make any sense (how does a hunter’s fist pump exactly?), but is still incredibly evocative. The rest of the lyrics in this song are great as well - it manages...
A Community Service Announcement
A recent link doing the rounds lead me to a website explaining 10 common things that we’re all doing wrong. Surprisingly most of the 10 were such highly skilled tasks as breathing, sleeping and defecating. Although it was mildly interesting to know how I was failing at such basic bodily functions, the information seemed a bit redundant. I mean, maybe 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep is less...
On Accessorising
A few mornings ago, my mother and I were discussing the merits of scarves as an aid to dressing more modestly. “I’m not convinced,” she mused. “I still think they’re too titillating.” Sniggering at the idea of scarves as risque apparel, I suddenly remembered the first time I saw chairlift play live. At the time, I was among those philistines who only knew one of...
Simile #14
“So they carried on like long division.”
Death Cab, Long Division. It took me a little while to decide if I liked this one - it’s a little twee. It does have that element of plodding along to the bitter end though, and that weary feeling of ‘how many significant figures do we really need?’. Kinda works for a stale relationship where both parties are staying just for...
On Reflection
When I was in high school, our slightly gung-ho phys ed teacher took us kayaking to a waterfall. To our surprise he pointed to the 15m high cliff beside it and challenged us to climb up and jump off it into the water below. Most of the class made the ascent, and most climbed back the same way they had come. I was one of the few who made the leap, and the pride I felt at being the only girl among...
December 2011
7 posts
Simile #13
“He’s as sick as a horse”
I can’t give this one a particular reference, although I can tell you Georgette Heyer abuses it shamelessly. I loved it the first time I read it, and I guess it’s a reminder that fresh similes always beat cliched ones. I grew up with the expression ‘sick as a dog’, and heard it so often, it lost all meaning before I even stopped...
On expectations
Every year I look forward to new year’s. More than Christmas, more than birthdays, more than even time off work. I generally start getting excited and feeling the build up in early August. In the true spirit of Western cliches, I could provide a lengthy description of how this slow buildup always ends in fizzling disappointment. I could probably throw in something witty about our...
On Being Twelve #3
21/4/99
The cat has been darkening the morning with its business. It spewed on Jack’s bed and crapped in the Laundry. I am at this moment hiding in my room.
***
Argh!!!! The cat has crapped in MY ROOM - in (not on, but actually IN) the massive pile of clothes!
On Being Twelve #2
18/4/99
Me again. To give you an idea of what I’m about to face, if my room is 3m x 3m, the pile of clothes is about 3m x 3m x 50m. I don’t know how they even all fit in there.
Sigh. Life sucks.
Stacey (the unhappy one)
On Being Twelve
Digging through some boxes at my parents house, I stumbled upon one of my old diaries. Although not quite a teenager, I think I had melodrama well and truly covered: 18/4/99 I’ve come up with a new theory about life. Maybe I’m already dead and this is hell. the first sign was when the batteries went flat on my walkman. Then Walter FROZE the computer just after I’d typed the last...
Simile #12 (ish)
“Laugh lines on our faces, scale maps of the ocean floor.”
Mountain Goats, Palmcorder Yajna.
Maybe it’s the rest of the song - and indeed the album - around this one, but the comparison makes you think of slightly manic laughter. Certainly by focusing on the wrinkles, rather than the smiles, it makes you visualize their faces extremely close up.
Simile #11
“The latter looked out with three tiers of vacant windows, which were blank and dreary, save that here and there a “To Let” card had developed like a cataract upon the bleared panes.”
A Study in Scarlet, Aurthur Conan Doyle.
November 2011
1 post
On International Relations
For years I’ve enjoyed the irony that exists in the American psyche. That perfect mix of exceptionalism and exemplarism that could only have arisen in a country that crowns its national football premiers ‘world champions’. It goes a little like this: America is so perfect and unique that it is the only place in the world where really true democracy could have been invented and...
September 2011
2 posts
On Prayer
When I was young, there was a show on TV called William’s Wish Wellingtons. It revolved around a young boy who’s red rain-boots had the power to grant an infinite number of wishes. Anything William could dream of he could have, simply by putting on the boots, thinking very hard and looking mildly constipated. Each episode, William would be faced with a difficult situation and, without...
Give Me That Old Fashioned Morphine
There’s nothing like international travel to broaden the mind. Anyone who’s ever been forced to suffer through a conversation with someone who’s been on exchange would probably say it makes the mind so broad it’s actually narrow again. My own adventure in the US was no exception. For a time after I got home all I could think about was America, and the triggers for...
August 2011
1 post
Simile #10
‘As the flashbulbs burst, she holds a smile, like someone would hold a crying child.’
Death Cab for Cutie. Cath.
I like how this one also makes you think of the slightly panicked expression people get when they’re holding someone else’s baby and it starts to cry.
July 2011
2 posts
Simile #9
” …and the sun peeks in, like a killer through the curtain.”
The Mountain Goats, First Few Desperate Hours.
Saturday Morning
About a year ago - give or take a few months - I posted about Church shopping. I was beginning the hunt for a congregation to feel at home in, and was not feeling too optimistic about it. As I remember, I finished the post with: ‘This time I already know one of the members of the congregation. I’m not sure if he’ll be there this morning, but at least he is passably normal, so if he fits in...
May 2011
2 posts
On Prejudice
This morning as I walked to work I passed, as always, the cafe on the corner of the bus mall. It’s one of the few local places I’ve yet to patronise, which is surprising considering it’s located just opposite my bus stop, and is therefore a severely convenient place to pick up my morning flat white. I’ve always been sure they make bad coffee, but thinking on it, I...
A metaphor
It’s not a simile, but just as satisfying:
“The television was snowing softly, as she hunted for her keys.”
Death Cab, Long Division.
It manages to convey both the look and the sound - not just of the TV but the whole room.
April 2011
1 post
Simile #8
“… she’s long gone, like Moses through the corn.”
From the song ‘She’s Long gone’ by the Black Keys. Genius song, quirky simile. I love this one because you can imagine Moses walking by and then disappearing into a cornfield, and the atmosphere of power and awe he would leave in his wake.
February 2011
1 post
Back to the lab (without a mic to grab)
I once heard a woman singing a ballad about falling in love with a dragon. She was so captivating, her voice so haunting, that when she finished it was several moments before the audience remembered themselves and started to applaud. Those seconds of stunned silence are the highest praise of talent I have ever borne witness to. What is it about some people that gives them that kind of charisma?...
I often wonder what I would say if you prostrated yourself before me. A thousand witty lines; my old friend cliche. But you wouldn’t understand or you’d ask me to repeat - you never did learn how to dance. The funny thing is, I learned this week, I prefer this dysfunction to romance. And I often wonder, but I do, just this way, I like you.
October 2010
1 post
The hint of an idea
Strong will,
broken heart.
No sleep,
endless task.
Here waiting
patiently,
light failing,
slow release.
September 2010
1 post
On humility
A friend once described Marxism thus: “No matter how objective you think you are, you are never not inside the story.” As he was referring to literary Marxism, rather than political, I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. These days however, after making it nearly to the end of my honours, I think I’ve gleaned a little of what he meant. Writing a thesis is a lesson...
August 2010
5 posts
On politics
The new guy at work is on the phone to his girlfriend at least 6 times a day. I don’t know why this bothers me so much.
Maybe it’s her apparent neediness; maybe his reluctance to engage with us instead; or maybe it’s my own envy of his ability to unabashedly hold a private conversation in a public, open-plan office space. Perhaps it’s simply that the phone is on his desk,...
Why I hate wearing pink
I made a shocking discovery yesterday: to the best of my knowledge (which I admit may be lacking) the english language has no feminine equivalent of the verb ‘emasculate’. The thought was briefly cheering. Women it seemed, had been considered too secure in their femininity to ever have a word invented to describe the removal of it. On closer reflection however I lean towards the more...
Simile #...
… oh that’s right. The book I am currently reading is so poorly written that it’s bereft of similes.
How to tell if a man is secretly a little bit...
When you hold open a door for him, is he noticeably surprised? If yes, he may be a little bit sexist. Either that or you are usually rude.
Just for something to do
As a recent experiment, I decided to develop a crush on a guy at work. For authenticity I did it in the same way I used to - pretty much just picked a guy at random and decided to invest some extra emotion in him. I need hardly add that this didn’t involve us actually speaking. Funnily enough all the same hallmarks of highschool crushes appeared: the morning check to see if he’d...
July 2010
2 posts
On existential angst
There’s a blog I follow, which is entirely of poems made from blacked out newspapers. Each piece has been artfully created by blocking out most of the words of a random newspaper article with black felt tip pen - the words left visible make up the poem. What fascinates me about this blog is that it has followers at all. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy it and read it everyday;...
On fashion
“You can sit like that if you want to Stacey,” announced my mother, as she frowned over her coffee mug at my slightly too low cut top.
“Just be aware that you are Sending A Message.”
I’ve got to admit, that being reduced from ‘sexy vixen’ to ‘cheap harlot’ in just two acerbic sentences, was a bit of a nasty shock at seven in the morning.
However, I sometimes wish that more people had been given...
June 2010
3 posts
The number one way to ruin a pun:
Explain it.
A short reflection (with melody)
A gift was given, a debt was paid, a father’s love overflowed, and swept me away. You sweep me away. No deed of hand, no work of heart, no boast was spoken, and I didn’t even ask. And yet you, you set me apart. With everything I’ve done, and all I fail to learn, still one as high as you, asks nothing in return.
Simile #7
“From close at hand the sound of a shot tore across the fields … The echoes came back in waves, like a pebble rolling round a box.” This one is from Watership Down, by Richard Adams. Its an interesting one, in that you immediately understand what he means, but the longer you think about it the less sense it makes.
May 2010
9 posts
Presenteeism
Today I decided to go to work regardless And found my resolve lasted only till 11 (Well I’m not getting anything done, so…) A quick text A lunch date A plan to call it a sickie (well I pretty much am) only to be thwarted by the need to prep an overnight incubation. Which is not nearly as exciting as it sounds. The menial task, highlighting my un-stoicism all the more.
Note to Self: I'm not Gay
By virtue of living in a house passed down through a long line of college boys, I get to spend my toilet time with two busty and be-fake-eye-lashed pin ups. You can see by the fading marks on the back of the door that there used to be more, but since the first girl moved in (or maybe since some of the lads started bringing their girlfriends around) their numbers have slowly dwindled, as corner by...
I will give you a dollar if you can do any of...
cut your tonails
eat an orange without the aid of a knife
put on / hitch up a pair of stockings
Props
To Colin Meloy, for not being afraid of using good words, even if they have two meanings.
Eg. “the mogul fingers the wrong guy”.
Its a bit “bishop tries his own hand”, but the song wouldn’t work any other way.
Simile #6
Number six is more of a pun, less of a simile, but I do love it so. It was said by a friend of mine, so long ago that I can’t remember what it was in reference to.It was one of the greatest saves I’d heard for a while, so much so that I still remember it today. Unfortunately it went straight over the heads of nearly everyone else at the table, and I think I was the only one who even...
Three Steps to Grounding Yourself
Take a walk along a street you’ve been down a hundred times before. As you wander, put in your headphones and crank a song that feels like an old friend - I can recommend Vittorio E. Now imagine all of your past selves are walking with you. Every time you see a familiar landmark, think of a time a version of you was there. That corner where you waited for your date; the bench you sat on to...
Simile #5
From a rather trashy and recent movie. I’ll not say which one, so there’s no need for a spoiler alert. Of two people kissing:
You look like a pair of seals fighting over a grape
Please just imagine that scenario. Imagine two seals fighting over a grape.
Sunday Morning
After a long hiatus I’m resuming church shopping this morning. It’s a daunting business, not least of all because its hard to shake the feeling that not liking a church is somehow blasphemous. And more often than not, churches are oddly creepy and the Christians in them just plain weird. I say that with all the righteous hypocrisy of a woman who dumped her last boyfriend for not taking...
Simile #4
I came across this one while re-reading Rosie Little’s Cautionary Tales For Girls. It’s being used to describe a couple falling rapidly in love and starting a life together:
We folded into each other like a pair of socks.
I love how it simultaneously evokes shared domestic tasks and spooning - arguably the two best bits about moving in with someone.
April 2010
2 posts
A Villanelle. (try one, they're tricky)
The tales that my father used to tell were stories of a dashing young hero who, tall and dark and comforting as well, would ride knight-like to save the young damsel in distress. His sidekick, I would follow the tales that my father used to tell ‘cross arid plains and up the mountain fell, where hero’d save me from the bitter snow -yes tall and dark and comforting as well - and as the...
I am moved by fancies that are curled Around these images, and cling: The notion of some infinitely gentle Infinitely suffering thing.
T.S Eliot
March 2010
9 posts
Simile #3
Coolin’ on the scene like a horse in a stable
EPMD, 1988. Enough said.