Gatecrashed

There are bodies of words all over the place. As I slept - or tried to sleep - last night, they obviously invited themselves round for a party at my considerable expense. They are now sleeping in drawers, in corners of cupboards, behind furniture, splayed lewdly over every available surface. They are breathing loudly, mumbling in their dreams as the inebriation wears off. I wouldn’t mind - I can be a welcoming host to the right guests, after all - but when I called for them in the virtual and all too real ether over the past few days, searching for the correct phrases and the poetic allusions that never seem to form in a just so state, did they answer? No, they remained resolutely silent. Clearly, they were merely plotting their arrival on my doorstep, filled with dubious intentions of sucking my hospitality dry until their gluttony and desire were sated, satisfied and overwhelmed. And then to throw up over the carpet and lie face down in a pool of their own vomit.

I want to evict them. Forever. No more words. I want to hide inside the soft, the warm, the real. Counting my fingers back and forth from dusk to daybreak. Checking myself out into my own peculiar version of reality.

Comments: 26

    I tried to post a blank comment, so as not to intrude any more words on here but it would nee let me.

    Annie | 03.28.07, 12:09

    words suck don’t they? you always find yourself saying things you know you shouldn’t say and when you need to say something, you can’t find the words. suck.

    Rachel | 03.28.07, 15:03

    Strangely enough, Annie, you’re not the only person who has tried to leave blank comments on this site. It must be catching. But I should add that the only words that were feeling uncomfortable were my own. I rather enjoy everybody else’s words intruding. Please intrude more.

    An Unreliable Witness | 03.28.07, 17:30

    This post is about me, isn’t it?

    andre | 03.28.07, 17:53

    *intrudes*

    I did an almost wholly blank post once. Clever people found it. Well a clever person anyway.

    Just the one.

    Angela M | 03.28.07, 18:50

    hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

    Words are very lonely difficult things on their own. Sentences are better, phrases or paragraphs, chapters are hard to start, books hard to end… poems hard to find

    I sound like a pretentious twat eh?

    My words are no better

    Peach | 03.28.07, 22:49

    what? it’s not about andre? i don’t believe it.

    i’m the original blanker!!

    blank. blank.

    imogen | 03.28.07, 22:51

    so pictures then… yes? :)

    furtive | 03.28.07, 23:34

    Hello all, thank you for your comments, and welcome to Blankety Blank. I’m Terry Wogan.

    Angela - I did see a blank post on your site recently. Or am I imagining it? I considered running my mouse over it to highlight it but, um, didn’t like to intrude …

    Peach - don’t worry about pretentious twattishness. If you know the contents of the rest of this site, you’ll know that pretentious twattishness is not only tolerated but positively encouraged. How else would I write what I do?

    Imogen - It’s true. It’s not about Andre. I hope this doesn’t come as too much of a shock to you and any other readers. I can let you into a secret, though. All his posts are about me. Oh yes.

    Furtive - the words are camera-shy. And probably decidedly unphotogenic. So no pictures, sadly.

    An Unreliable Witness | 03.29.07, 08:37

    {intruding - (again)}

    Words need a piper to call the tune, methinks.

    Otherwise they just gatecrash and hold all night raves in one’s bedroom.

    Perhaps get a harmonica, slightly hipper than pan pipes?!

    Annie | 03.29.07, 12:02

    *swoon*

    andre | 03.29.07, 12:20

    Oh Mr Unreliable Esquire,
    first you show him your hat
    and now he swoons over you.
    rare magic indeed.

    Annie | 03.29.07, 15:59

    I know … I am so honoured, aren’t I? Not only did he show me his hat, but he let me wear it too. Albeit briefly. I shall dine out on that tale for the rest of my natural life.

    An Unreliable Witness | 03.29.07, 16:32

    *swoon*

    Annie | 03.29.07, 16:41

    wait. um, hang on. i thought all of andre’s posts were about *me*? sign!

    imogen | 03.29.07, 16:46

    Actually, I know what all of Andre’s posts are about, but I can’t tell you or I would have to kill you.

    Has anyone else noticed that, even on *my* site, Andre Jordan has become the main subject of conversation? How does he do that?

    An Unreliable Witness | 03.29.07, 16:52

    Dear Mr Unreliable Esquire

    Do we think it’s because (according to his scandalous review page) he is a paranoid drama queen?

    And as Oscar Wilde may or may not have said:
    “There’s only one thing worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.”

    Kind regards

    Annie | 03.29.07, 16:55

    I think I shall change the subject away from talking about Mr Andrew Jerdin.

    So.

    That was a most splendid post I wrote, I thought. Absolutely splendid. One of my best. Probably.

    An Unreliable Witness | 03.29.07, 16:58

    I agree.

    An excellent post.

    Mr Unreliable Esquire is a fine writer.

    One of the best.

    Admiringly yours Annie

    Annie | 03.29.07, 17:09

    My posts are about ME! ME ME ME!

    You people are so self obsessed.

    andre | 03.29.07, 18:11

    oh the mirth

    andre | 03.29.07, 18:24

    Insomnia brings on some disjointed internal dialogue in my case, words buzzing around in a wordhive and occasionally stinging my brain…

    Ariel | 03.29.07, 21:39

    Belatedly… you might like Crow Goes Hunting if you don’t know it already.

    Hg | 04.04.07, 12:13

    i am only here because of andre. i just thought i’d mention that.

    bekka | 05.27.07, 04:04

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