TweetShare  Unravelling the speaking out of the story has confounded her. And while trying to be in the place of systematic telling, still more unfolds to be told. It’s been so epic, so huge, mystical, the truly mysterious implemented through momentary enactment of daily, diligent, detailed practical matter minutia, with the mere mundane manifesting collateral [...]

TweetShare “I’ve written this letter to the locals. It’s about this thing said to my partner by a Mr Corskie, a publican.  He’s unusual, really friendly and open.  It’s a difficult position for people like him.  Of course if the locals want to remain multiphobic in an attitude of admission reserved for national trad, country [...]

TweetShare “Communication? How is it, to even begin to talk, when you’ve been so many places, been so…round about, rising, to scratch the upper crust almost at the top and then, through the scales, plummeting to a bottom and turning to see what everywhere else looks like from down there, then, deep, very far, the [...]

TweetShare “More and more, it’s more, mostly, sensation. And how does that get translated?  Into any communicable format that’s viable interchange? Or relevant to anyone else. Snips sharding, pictures, scenarios, scenes, images fleeting by and flashing through altogether in an overlaid, alternating, overlapping simultaneity – like being mentally, multiple squint.”  She gestures with her eyeballs. [...]

TweetShare “To ‘the’, or not to ‘the’?” Now that’s the interrogative to do fun by.*1 For example, how to write ‘Earth’ is a matter of how Earth is perceived, whether ‘tis deemed a proper noun as in this case referencing a She Being, or, whether, ‘the earth’ is seen as a thing. In the latter [...]

TweetShare   From Acerbica, the world on Earth is funny, but no laughing scene.  Satyr but tries, to convey – to explain, to enter into logic the vantage, the streaming.  It is there to be seen.  (Because it is . . .)*1 Like patently, honestly, blatantly obvious, overt clues of behavioural evidence passing through repeatedly.  Not [...]

So. Two people. Initially, at a point, they bumped, in a victual shop, a library, a friend’s home, an educational zone, the work place, wherever. And a magnetic simply was, drawing them, pulling them, tugging them, an increasing centrifugal incongruity propelling an inexplicable, centralising exclusivity, transmuting individuals into one.

Blaring the insufficient speakers, Peter Gabriel’s “. . . Tower that Ate People” rattles the crystal stones lined along the metallic grid to absorb the laptop’s brain toxic emf’s. Finger tips dik their familiar dik-dik-dik-dak-dikking rhythmic patternings on the keyboard, with a regularly sporadic, rallentandoed reach of the right hand to the backspace button diagonally right, dik-dik dik-dik*.
She’s been far away. She doesn’t even know how come she went. She just found herself back there again. Like she hadn’t ever left. Like she hadn’t even lived anything since then. Like that was all she’d ever lived . . .

TweetShare The daily, three-phase, hundred and forty kilometre round trip was recurringly tedious. Arduously hot. It began by getting to the main road at 6a.m., to wait there, to be picked up and bumped around on a hardened flatulence of tyres bloated to the extreme in an arrogant preference for efficacy of the speed machine. [...]

TweetShare The nineteen eighties. Hillbrow – a social fomenting pot on the rise above Johannesburg City. On a street over the hill, the unassuming door of a narrow bookshop would welcome the regular traffic of a select, discreet clientele, secretly seeking to consult specific reams that could lead their delving though a great unknown of [...]

TweetShare Sendings’ sources, it must be acknowledged, have truly expended aeonics in an attempt to respond to a general and editorial beg, for pertinent content that preferably obviates necessitating extended cerebral acrobatics for re-invigorated, re-invention of scripting skills; although an eventuality of having singed finger tips for tackling, typing up and emailing stuff that’s too [...]

TweetShare Sendings from Acerbica reveal something of what it can be, to see out of the eyes of two people who tumble together through not ordinary lives.  Like when she was sitting on a long drop in a resettlement camp in Africa.  A long drop?  That’s a very long, narrow hole, dug way down into [...]

TweetShare  Bread.  A universally assumed, basic edible.  Make it through one day without consuming some form of this wheaten bake?  Is anything more completely requiting than devouring a crunchy bread roll?  A good Sandwich is produce of the skirts of heaven; what can bestow more pleasure on a native of planet earth – the anticipation, [...]

TweetShare  He heads for the streets of his childhood with his double bass.  When he returns to her he has such a story to tell, that she just has to begin typing it in while he’s talking.  This is what he had to say:       . . . “I found a parking space in the [...]

TweetShare   Where there could have been a flawlessly incandescent story, they’d been going through some difficulties.  Indomitable, creative spirits rising to soar, but there’s this thing doesn’t gel, won’t screw in, doesn’t stick, won’t set, no matter how much of anything you apply, which way you twist, what you throw at it, nor for [...]