Fifteen and ten and counting

Ten years ago today I woke up early to the sound of birds – typical of a Johannesburg spring morning. It hadn’t been the most restful or peaceful of slumbers. When I’d initially dropped off to sleep the night before my brother came and woke me up because there was a moth in his room. Thirteen months of living in deepest, darkest Africa had prepared me for such events and so I swiftly stepped forward and twatted it with a flip flop (the moth rather than my dear brother although I was tempted…).

After that I lay awake for quite a while contemplating the universe as one does in the small hours leading up to your wedding.

Reinventing Amy

As a general rule I tend to shy away from re-posting old stories but for some odd reason this one has been nagging at me for the last couple of days so while I’m busy with some new things I hope to like here’s an old thing I actually do like. As always with these things there’s a little bit of history threading its way through a whole heap of fiction…

*

“We’re really so sorry Craig. She was an amazing woman.”

“The best of the best.”

“She was so sweet, so gentle. We all loved her.”

“Amy was one of a kind, she didn’t deserve for this to…”

“I broke your pie dish.”

That one simple truth banished the spell of unending platitudes. Caught me off guard. “Sorry, you broke…?”

“The pie dish.” Deb looks at me and makes a circle with her hands. “Round thing. Generally used for the carrying and serving of pies.”

Some Things Never Change

“I don’t understand what you see in her.”

“It’s not what I see it’s what I hear. The wit and wisdom born of a medicated tongue. The dark and delicate tones that pierce my goosebumps like the jagged razor of bow on string. The laughter, sometimes natural, sometimes unnatural that dances across my heart. The music of her soul.”

Triangulating Newton

“So what have you been up to?”

“The usual.”

“By ‘the usual’ I assume you mean you’ve been writing?”

“If by the simple term ‘writing’ you are suggesting I’ve been pouring heart, soul and spleen in a rorschach splatter on to the virgin white page of a word processor then yes, I’ve been writing. You’ve been playing or whatever it is that you do?”

“Yes. Twenty years of practice and dedication just so I can listen to some pissed up failed roadie scream at me to ‘play some Randy Rhoads! All aboard the crazy train!’ while I try and feign enjoyment grinding my way through Brown Eyed Girl for the millionth time.”

“Sounds satisfying.”

“Hugely.”

A 26 Step Love Story

“Amy.”

“But isn’t she…?”

“Christ! Don’t give me that bullshit. Every girl who ignores you is a lesbian in your book.”

“Fair point, but that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“Go on.”

“Heard she was seeing that weird guy from accounts.”

Separation Anxiety

One of my best friends was attacked in her home earlier this week. She was followed into her driveway by a bunch of cowards with weapons, held at gunpoint and robbed of her jewellery and phone.

She wrote a very powerful blog post about it today which you can read by clicking here.

When I found out about it I had, as you would expect, a bunch of mixed emotions flying around in my brain. Firstly I was thankful that she, her children and her family were safe and that she was relatively unharmed. Then I was filled with rage that these oxygen-thieves are essentially able to get away with these acts every single day.

When my anger abated a little I was left with an aching sense of sadness.

Only Rock And Roll by Nik Eveleigh

This story goes up to 11…

literally stories

I was baaaawwwwn. In a one way cul DE saaaaaac.

“Is that actually possible?”

“Is what possible?”

“A cul-de-sac being one way. How would you ever leave?”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what?”

I set my beer on the bar and give Frank the look.

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Reinventing Amy by Nik Eveleigh

My latest short story on Literally Stories. It’s about love, loss, regret, friendship and a pie dish with an identity crisis. Hope you enjoy it.

literally stories

“We’re really so sorry Craig. She was an amazing woman.”

“The best of the best.”

“She was so sweet, so gentle. We all loved her.”

“Amy was one of a kind, she didn’t deserve for this to…”

“I broke your pie dish.”

View original post 1,756 more words

Dope I Mean Validation

A friend of mine shared an article on social media earlier today highlighting the growing phenomenon of death by cellphone. It seems that globally, talking on cellphones while driving is being replaced as the hobby of choice by the million-times-more-crazy-deadly texting and messaging on cellphones while driving.

Global society is trending towards increasingly impersonal modes of communication. FaceTime, Skype and the like may have increased the access for face to face communication but it pales into insignificance when you weigh it up against the volume of communications conducted solely via a keyboard. Why call when you can send an email? Why email when you can send a WhatsApp? Why stand behind a reasoned and logical argument when you can hide in the shadows and cause a shitstorm on Twitter?