Archive for the ‘Hillbilly Haiku’ category

Tuesday, 26 April 2011, 11:30 p.m.

April 26, 2011

The problem with growing up is realising that–not only does The Emperor Have No Clothes, but, The Emperor Is In Fact A Nudist, and YOU’RE the one with the problem.


Friday, September 17 2010, 8:55 p.m.

September 17, 2010

Meine Liebe Fruitfly, As much as I respect the Byronic glamour with which you fell on your sword–drowning yourself in my glass of port wine–I can’t help but wonder if your efforts would have held more gravitas if you had seen fit to do yourself in in a more humble fashion–suffocating under a grape, perhaps? or getting caught in the doorframe. Still, you made your point. Love Always, Litszen

Sunday, March 28 2010, 7:23 p.m.

March 28, 2010

….and, when she finally met her hero, she could still feel the sweet glaze of ketchup on her fingertips…

Sunday, February 28 2010, 10:17 a.m.

February 28, 2010

Having significantly raised her game when it came to uncorking a bottle of wine, she now turned her focus to the art of slicing bread. To the outside world she was merely a perfectionist, but in her own mind she was well along in her studies at the School For Diplomats’ Wives!

Thursday, February 25 2010, 10:42 a.m.

February 25, 2010

It occurs to me that–in the face of petty bureaucratic types, and mired in a swamp of vague regulations and personal whims–one must cling to civility. The use of an exquisite tea cup; savouring the vivifying effects of potted plant; well-applied make-up. Let these be the rungs of the ladder that will take you out from, and above the cretins!

Friday, February 5 2010, 10:15 a.m.

February 5, 2010

…and I began to see that it would be hard to make anything look serious if one insisted on including a chicken’s foot.

Sunday, January 24 2010, 3:08 a.m.

January 24, 2010

A short conversation this evening with a stranger (of unknown character or pedigree) gave form to an intuition I’ve had for awhile. That is that the peril of people who live altruistic lives is to lose all appreciation for the opera in everyday life, eyes focused on the horizon for an ever-more malnourished soul.They forget how to cry over spilled milk, and eventually the milk just stops caring.