Frisky Friday

12:15am Friday night after some farewell drinks at the Lucky Coq, and I am walking down Chapel Street in my favourite jeans to my awaiting ride home. Walking, not falling over myself, but I did have a few drinks in me. I see two men with a very sniffy dog coming from the other direction. The dog goes over to my left to sniff some people on a bench, and I put two and two together as I notice that the men are wearing police lanyards and light blue shirts under their jackets - drug-sniffer dog! I marvel as it was the first time I've seen one, and continue along past the people of the bench (bench people).

As my intoxicated mind began to wander on to another thought I notice, and feel, the dog sniffing rather purposefully up and down my leg. My first reaction is a smile and a mental "hey doggie!", but this doesn't last long. I was suddenly thinking "WHAT THE HELL?" as the two men come over to me and start asking me whether I've been using narcotics of any kind this evening. Or if I've ever had any problems with the police before. I respond coherently (thankfully) and tell them (truthfully!) that I've never touched any illicit drugs in my life.

They then ask me to empty my pockets of everything and put it on the ground, as well as hand over some ID. One of the men tells me to turn around and promptly frisks me! I wasn't really aware of anyone else around me, but if I'd have been sober it would have been pretty humiliating. While I'm being frisked the man with my license asks me to recite my details as he writes them into a notepad.

"Have any of your friends been using drugs tonight?"

"No, no, I don't have friends like that." I reply as one of them looks through my wallet.

"Where have you been tonight?"

"The Lucky Coq, just on the corner of High Street back there."

"And where are you going now?"

"I'm on my way home, my friend's waiting to give me a lift."

Seeming somewhat satisfied now that they'd intimidated me and felt me up, one of them suggests that it was most likely that I'd sat down somewhere on/unknowingly come into contact with some drug residue. And they let me go on my way, confused and shocked...

So now the police have my name on their books, through no fault of my own! I'm definitely washing those jeans! If I don't blog again for a while, I may well be incarcerated...

But no, afterwards I was in such shock that I thought maybe I was being conned. Identity fraud or something. I even rang up the Prahran police station to ask if what happened to me was common procedure. Which it turned out, was the case.

"To be frisked by police" wasn't exactly on my list of things to do in my life... But now I have, and I have a story to repetitively retell every time someone mentions law enforcement or drugs or even dogs. :)

Dale.

Unreliable Narrator

My name is Harry today. I chose it because it's boring. Boring and plain. Like toast. She never says it but I can tell she always wants me to be more like toast. Let's see what a name can do...

"Harry" didn't go so well. If I were toast like she wanted, then the toaster caught fire and exploded all over everything. Things just happen to me, no matter what my name is or how many times a day I say a curse word. It wasn't my fault that she sent me into one of those fits!

Sometimes I talk so much that I think my mouth might fall off and get all dusty when it hits the carpet. I wish I didn't talk so much... Especially to her.

There's nothing more in this world that I want than to just not be with her... I'd give anything to NOT be with her... She's so ugly and-- and-- undesirable.

(incomplete)

Inspired by Poe's "Tell-tale Heart".

Dale.

Duplicity

I watched Duplicity (Julia Roberts, Clive Owen) on dvd last night and it was really good! I appreciated it as a viewer and from a writing standpoint as well. The dialogue was snappy and intelligent and so was the story. The ending really impressed me as well because it was different, but the perfect way to conclude everything at the same time.*

*The above positive review may have been affected by the conditions in which I watched the movie; with insanely delicious chocolate chip cookies, milk, and unbeatable company. ;)

I'm reading The Crucible because it's one of the Year 12 VCE English texts for this year, and I decided it would be fun to go back to high school and pretend to be a Year 12 student again. Or maybe I'm just reading it because I'm tutoring a girl who's doing Year 12 English this year. Or maybe I am a figment of your imaginorium... Regardless, it is different reading a play again. Quite different.

In fiction-writing (at uni) we've been discussing unreliable narrators, such as the murderer in Poe's 'Tell Tale Heart'. I quite like the idea of the narrator telling you one story, when in actuality something entirely different is happening, and the reader has to piece that together for him/herself. We did an exercise in class in which we had to write a short piece told by an unreliable narrator that was slightly kookoo. I handed it in at the end of class but should get it back on Monday, and if I do I will post it up on here. It's only very short - had barely 15 minutes to write it. Nevertheless I was quite happy with it. It started with, "Today my name is Harry." Which was inspired by someone stealing my name badge at Coles, and me being 'Justin' for the last few days.

Well, that's about it for things on my mind at the moment. Yes, it's an exciting place my headspace. Very echoey. :)

Sorry for the break in posts. And thanks for your research into the Latin language Luke. Maybe you could find out what the words for 'Nag', 'Pester' and 'Bother' are. I might need an array of Latin words to describe someone's behaviour of late. :P

Dale.