Dusty Old Annabel Lee Is Me

I wish that I were Annabel Lee,
While I'm busily wishing that you were me -
I could be gone and without a sound
While you wait to be with dusty old me in the ground.


Might look into expanding this at some stage, but I currently feel neither the need nor the inclination.

Earth and Eggs (Again) / Two Good Friends / Him and The Friend

An excerpt from the upcoming.

Downstairs Him was measuring the distance to all the countries he wanted to visit. It was 37cm to Tokyo, but The Friend was claiming that the globe did not correctly represent the vast distances. On the contrary, Him argued, “though I see your point; it is well known that the Earth is in fact not a sphere, more of an… ovoid, and egged shape. But not like an egg quite, more like a ball with a pinch on the top and the bottom, a football you are currently sitting on, a beach-ball sagging under its own weight. But if the top is flatter than that then really it will just make the distance shorter. It’s about tangents, though I don’t mind over estimating, it’s always a good idea to leave a little space in your calculations.”
The Friend looked exasperated. “If the earth is like an egg, this globe is like an egg within the egg, therefore this egg must be smaller than the other egg. Tokyo is a lot further away thank you think.”
Him: “but the earth is not an egg, more of a football; or as I said, an ovoid, remember the planes of symmetry: two, required. An egg, thankfully, has only one, for the avoidance of rolling,” and so on. The Friend: "if I wasn't such a good Friend I might believe you were becoming deliberately obtuse..." but Him was having none of it and, seeing as how it was such a short distance to Tokyo, he was all for setting off as soon as possible.

Saddled

It has been noted by a few astute-but-hard-of-hearing listeners that the song "Temporary Evil", from the St. Cuthbert's Burials E.P. of the same name, is a mite frustrating for those who like to make out words. The chattering in the background must, for the time being, remain enigmatic, but I can provide you here with the main body, as it were, of the text:

Saddled like a growing undertaker. Mislaid in the undergrowth that tried but couldn’t twine the poplar trees while they were there. Evidenced by cooling of the ground from sunset, culminating in the coldest earth before the dawn. Distracted by the finches, didn’t know what kind of finches. Bolstered by a breeze that hardly shook the hay from loose forgotten bails. Hidden by the height of hedges, honeysuckle melting with the branches of the lesser bushes. Exited stage right before the sun was coming up.

Thanks for listening! Ho ho.

The Church

Sadly it was the rather stupid Charlotte Church that instigated this evening's thought processes.
I want to talk a little about religion. I want to, but can't. I know literally nothing about it. Well, not literally. What worries me most though is that I'm joined by about 6,578,257,375 people. 6,578,257,375 know nothing about religion. On a side note I had this theory once, or more of a fantasy, that women had a huge secret, and its such a deep hidden secret that they can't ever tell a male, without destroying everything. So not even a lesbian could break the vow...not even riddled with drugs and frying in a pancake oils. I don't know what the secret would be, obviously. Probably something to do with machines... maybe the world is hollow and lined with little rubbery handles, so that when the menfolk go to sleep (after a hard night hunting amphibious birdlife?) they drop down specially crafted tunnels that they dug as part of their initiation. They slide down these hand crafted tunnels and drop into the hollow earth, wildly grasping for a handle as they plummet into the innner void. If they manage to catch hold they can swing around, so that from a distance away into the space and turning back their shapes make important concentric patterns. That would explain magnets. If they miss they just drop...although the problem is after they have dropped for say, a thousand or so miles they'll be approaching the 'core' of the empty space. If they dropped any further they'd actually be flying, if you get my drift. So obviously they come to an abrupt stop in the centre....where surely thousands of women from all around the world will be dropping to. Exactly the same point. At high velocity too... no doubt creating intense heat. A huge boiling fleshball of oestrogen, and er, hairstyles and screaming and mangles.
I forget my point.