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December, 2009

  1. small, stone

    December 31, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    I have a statue, you know
    he lives in the cupboard
    dispensing advice
    and candy

    when I’m sad
    he cries
    when I need cheering up
    he lies

    his sneeze is musical
    his influence is wavy
    his little sun is orbital
    his toes are small, stone.


  2. the monster

    December 30, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    outside my window on morning
    a spiderweb of honey
    woven by a caramel spider
    to catch peppermint flies

    an orange juice dog
    sloshed by
    carrying a chocolate bone
    wet paw-prints down the driveway

    an odd noise
    a flash of … something
    an odour
    marshmallow birds suddenly silent

    i rushed to the door
    of solid candy
    opened it
    turning a bubblegum handle

    outside stood a monster
    human shaped
    but not human
    a staggering suit of meat

    it slobbered something
    with its flesh tongue
    reeking, pink
    and totally revolting

    i slammed the door
    and picked up my honeycomb phone
    dialled the sugarplum police
    with my shaking icecream hands

    after much commotion and shouting
    they killed it with fairyfloss bullets
    i sat inside with my wafer cat
    trembling like a jelly horse

    all clear said the sugarplum police
    but it is not clear at all
    a meaty stain is on my nougat drive
    and the honey spiderweb is broken

    steeling myself, i don my ice-gloves
    and get to scrubbing
    the caramel spider, perhaps inspired
    starts to reweave its honeyweb in hope


  3. Dear E

    December 29, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    diary_of_a_lost_girlDid you know, dear E, that there is a building in which all the lost things of the world are kept? The location is kept hidden so people just don’t turn up. If you apply to search their archives then they sedate you and then you awaken in the preparation room. A very nice man by the name of William is there to greet you. He explains that you can search for as long as you like but in the end can only leave with one of the things you have found. He quickly runs through a very brief list of what they have:

    Buttons, coats, jackets, jumpers, shoes, sneakers, coins, photographs, pictures, artwork, love letters, leaving letters, divorce papers, lost courage, lost hope, lost loves, mobiles, string, underwear, emails, diaries, toys ­ both fluffy and non-fluffy, recipes, instructions, screws, tools, computers, laptops, cars, boats ­ both real and paper, hats, earrings,
    days, months, years, lost weekends, wicker baskets, tennis balls, cricket bats, pets, music, and much much more. The brief list really doesn’t give the scope of what they have. They have every lost thing that has ever existed.

    All of it is there, just for you.

    Their storerooms are stacked to the rafters; they stretch off to the horizon. A special electric golf cart, sandwiches, water, rope and climbing equipment, sleeping bag, inflatable mattress, rifle, torch, matches, firelighters, tent, tinned food, GPS locator beacon and box of tissues are  supplied. The search begins on their database. You enter the description of what it is you have lost and it will begin searching. Thanks to their four square kilometres of computers, the answer comes back within thirty seconds, giving a location. You then need to drive to the location; a journey that can take up to four days. Once at the location you may preview your lost thing. You cannot hold it, but only look at it closely through a glass sheet. The thing may be rotated to be observed from each side. If the lost thing is not to your satisfaction, you may continue searching.

    shadowgirlShould you be happy with your lost thing, now found, you may mark it for retrieval and then begin your trip back to the entrance. When you return they will again sedate you and then you will awaken in your home, with your
    found thing by your side.

    Some people enter, searching for their lost transcendent love, only to be disappointed that it is not there, because it never existed. Some people enter, looking for their lost weekend, but settle for a lost teddy.

    Others enter and never return. They have lost so much they they spend the rest of their life searching the archives, seeing their lost things and then moving on to the next lost thing. They pick up food and supplies at
    certain locations and then continue their search. Unaware of the supreme irony of it all, they themselves can become another person’s lost thing.


  4. cheerleader chant

    December 28, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    G-O, we know what that spells, yeah!
    Cos we got spirit, we got flair
    We ain’t got no underwear!
    We but sluts, we be whores
    We be free with the de’amores

    Fuck the rich, and fuck the poor
    We be free with the de’amores


  5. webcomic – i had a dream

    December 27, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    ihadadreami had a dream but i kept it in a jar and it died from lack of air


  6. thinking about tuna

    December 26, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    it was a place where butterflies felt safe
    wild green and so alive
    a place where a cat could spend an afternoon
    lazing on the bricks and thinking about tuna


  7. the boy

    December 25, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    He called her ‘the girl’ and in her mind she called him ‘the boy’ but never to his face, or behind his back. Sometimes, in idle thought, she would consider why it was only ‘to their face’ or ‘behind their back’, as though people had only two sides.

    She often thought things like this, and had, until a few years ago, voiced such questions to the world. One that she pondered often was ‘at the drop of a hat’. She wondered what kind of hat it was, where it was kept, whose hat it had been originally. Did they store it in an airtight chamber, or just leave it on the shelf? She would think on this, which then of course led her to thinking about what other objects they might have tried first to drop. Coins were no use, clearly, as they would bounce away. Bees would be no use as they wouldn’t drop at all. A cat could be dropped, but it would probably run away, and not be at all amused by the frequent dropping.

    When they met it had seemed as by accident they should be at the same place at the same time. But for a slight alteration she would not be there, or he would not. She wondered if they would have met anyway.


  8. a million ancient bees

    December 23, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    a million ancient bees erupted from the earth
    on the day i was married
    i didn’t take it as a sign for me
    i blamed global warming

    the poor bees, confused and lost
    searching for flowers that don’t exist
    swerved down through the town
    oh, they didn’t know about car windshields either

    our wedding photos in the botanical gardens
    going quite well until that low squeal approached
    did you know that ancient bees didn’t buzz?
    well, they don’t
    down they came, those ancient bees
    heading for my wife
    i told her that her dress looked like a stupid giant flower
    i haven’t been more right

    the swarm collided and surrounded and loved and embraced
    those poor bees desperately trying to feel at home
    my wife swatting them down
    did you know ancient bees have no sting?

    not long after and the ancient bees are gone
    squished and crushed and mashed and splattered
    my powerful wife did them in
    and i still didn’t take it to be a sign


  9. Rediscovering your writing (and a bit on the creative process)

    December 22, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    While looking through short stories to post up here I came across some stories I hadn’t looked at for a loooooong time. In one case it was at least two years.

    I found an incomplete story that was clearly under construction. There was even a note in there saying *man I’m tired zzzzz* in the middle of text. If this story were a physical thing it would be a few pieces of wood held together with tape and various partially constructed bits lying around it. At a glance you can see what it is meant to be but you can’t quite see how it’s going to come together. There are too many leftover parts and random bits of wood and metal piled up.

    Anyways, I had completely forgotten that I had written this story. As I read through it was like reading it for the first time. This could have something to do with how very tired I apparently was when I wrote it. The time between then and now is clearly a factor.

    I laughed a true and honest chortle at one of the sentences.

    Wow.

    Sometimes I laugh when I’m writing – often because whatever the writing bit says to me is unexpected and I’m the first person hearing the joke. This makes me sound like a mad person but it’s probably the best way to describe the creative process. For me it is this: I hear me who is the one writing this post. This is the one the world meets. Then there is the other me which is the writing part. That voice, for lack of a better term, is a chattering idea-producing dynamo. When I reach into the dark it is the one with the words waiting. And always with the freaking ideas, all the time, even when I’m trying to sleep, which can be really annoying. Then there is the other me who is also an idea generator and has debates with the idea dynamo. It’s like two characters who are madly enthusiastic and build on what the other has to say.

    “Wow! That’s great! What if we add x, y, z and then a, b, c and how COOL would that be?”

    “Then we can twist this part and then we can connect it to that other-”

    “Yeah! And after we twist that we can tie this other bit around to-”

    And on it goes as I sit there listening to all this and sometimes contributing my own bit to the process.

    There is another part as well – a slower deep thinker who listens to it all and ties deeper structures together. This is the part that speaks up when I’m in the shower and it says “Hey Mat – you know that bit of the story you’ve been stuck on for six months? How about this?”

    Then out will come some amazing package that has clearly been worked on for a while and it is divinely beautiful.

    Let your stories rest

    To improve your writing you need to give it time to rest. Time for you to forget all about it while that deeper part works way in silence. Long novels in particular need time for you to step back and consider the structures you’ve built. To go back to the building simile, you’ve hammered together a magnificent towering marvel of words but you need to leave it for six months to see which parts fall down because they were only held together with tape in the first place.

    Forgetting your writing allows you to see with a critical eye the weak parts that need to be cut or strengthened.

    A little more on writing and the creative process

    Imagine you watch a football match. There are players running around, the ball is flying around the place, all kinds of crazy patterns and plays are occurring and there you are in the stands writing it all down. Now if someone gets their nose broken in a burst of blood and violence it would be ridiculous for anyone to say to you “why did you do that? Why did you break his nose?” Your answer would be “I didn’t break his nose! Another player broke it. I was simply recording what happened.”

    This is how some of the best writing happens. The characters have a life and spirit of their own and you are writing down their actions. If you attempt to force them to do something against their nature then they will refuse to move.

    Now imagine a stage show where you are playing all the characters. You put on the “Dad” costume and come out on the stage under the searing lights and clumsily read out Dad’s lines. Then you go offstage, change into the “Mum” costume and come back out on stage again. You read out Mum’s lines. Then you change into the dog costume. Then the policeman costume. Soon you are hot and sweaty and hating every labourious moment out there. The whole process is hard and there is no flow and you start thinking about killing every character right then and there.

    This is how some really terrible writing happens. The characters don’t have a life and spirit. It’s just you, attempting to shove and pull and animate the cast but you can never ever know what they would say or do in response to anything because they are dead puppets.

    You’ll hit these hard bits sometimes. Yes, you should power through because in many ways it can be like a rehearsal for better work. During the writing some of the characters may start to come to life and you don’t need to jump into their costume. There may still be some empty costumes out there but as the cast come to life they may too.

    Lesson: let stuff rest (for a looooong time if you can).

    Lesson: take yourself out of pushing and pulling and animating. Let the characters come to life and simply observe them.

    Lesson: (although not in article) – good writing is closely connected to blood sugar level and sleep. Rest well and remember to eat at regular times! No athlete would exercise with no food that day – no writer should attempt to write whilst hungry or low in blood sugar.


  10. Introduce an R18+ Classification for Computer Games in Australia Now!

    December 21, 2009 by Mathew Ferguson

    censorshipHey everyone, the Australian Government has released a discussion paper which briefly summarises the key arguments for and against an R18+ classification for computer games http://www.ag.gov.au/gamesclassification

    Submissions are now open until 28th February 2010 about whether Australian should include an R18+ classification for computer games.

    Go to the site, fill out the template and email it in. It takes about two minutes.

    THIS is not just about whether AvP and the like get refused classification! We’re facing a censorship regime being pushed by religious groups and others who would seek to control every aspect of our lives. The upcoming mandatory “clean feed” is being driven by the same forces who oppose Australian adults being able to choose to play adult content computer games.

    Make no mistake – these groups, if they could, would remove comprehensive sex education from schools, block safe drug use information, block how-to sites on civil disobedience and other forms of protest, mash church and state into one solid evil and work to extinguish every freedom we have to write, view, discuss and promote a plurality of ideas.

    You don’t care whether R18+ exists because you can download it anyway? Well, the censorship regime can very easily have torrents added to it. Then the how-to bypass filter sites will be next. Then the sites on how-to disable CCTV cameras …

    You want to be able to view public domain images like this? Oppose censorship in all its insidious forms.

    You want to be able to view public domain images like this? Oppose censorship in all its insidious forms.

    We let R18+ slip away and we’re going to fighting to watch unedited television shows. We’re going to be fighting to read the books we want to read, watch the movies most modern democracies take for granted and write about the topics that concern us. You want to scare the hell out of someone with an image of an aborted fetus? Forget it in the new Australia.

    Stand up to censorship and make a submission to the Australian Government!