the wuc bytes – the switch

I’m feeling particularly bipolar, just thought you should know.

Today, I subsist on the upward swell of a wayward zephyr – with spring poking its salty nose out, sniffing the air like a groundhog, deciding whether it’ll grant me my yenned renaissance.

Yesterday, winter was in full force, wedging my emotional undies right up into the butt crack of au fait accompli. Confused? So was I, dear friends. So was I.

What can I tell you? I am simultaneously devoid of art and yet feel an intense need to create. To be recreated. To stop the endless cycle that is the laundry of my dirty psyche. I could mark this spot where I stand in defeat and exhaustion as if it were new, but I been here many times before. Each time, I stuck stick in that wheel like a grubby kid, determined to trip the cycle … only for it to reinvent itself rather than me. Alas in augura, amici.

I want to fuck that cycle right up. Take it out back and beat the crap out of it. To release the guns, Tito and Sally Field upon it. I wanna moontag that puppy in front of its girl crush and rub its spokes in the dirt. Kick it and shout, you’ll never be a BMX!

The crux is work, as per. The foundations I rest upon are being eroded like a sandcastle built at high tide. It’s as if someone cast a handful of spaghetti high into the air and I can only watch as the once-unified mass splits apart in slow-mo, scattering in separate directions, before plummeting down, down. Dust. Yes, along with my working brethren, I am the pitiful pasta in this scenario; though I can’t decide if my boss is the hand that tossed it or merely the hand in absentia, which could’ve outstretched ‘n’ snared us. But instead, let us fall.

Details will be forthcoming when I can rest them from my mind box, where they lie entangled in vine and whine. Until then, I look to the groundhog, wood chuck-chuckers. For whilst he’s an ugly little mother who drives angry, he holds spring in the palm of his claw. And if I can’t rest my thoughts from me, I’ll surely rest possibility from he – imaginary little bedfellow.

And, now. To all the beady-eyed little man boys out there, this one’s for you.

If you’re tempted to rise above this movie, thwart the tempt. For you’d miss out on the genius of Goldblum and brilliance of Bateman. They make me happy in my finespun bone. Peptone.

“It was like a Tourette-style truth serum, and I was caught right in the cross hairs.”

Published by the wuc

I'm a chick living in Australia, working for the man. I hate office work with a passion usually reserved for James Cameron, but somehow I ended up with a career behind a desk, stapling my forehead at random intervals.

22 thoughts on “the wuc bytes – the switch

  1. You’re bipolar! (is that a same sex white bear), i digress, you think you have trouble, not being able to keep wine I have to buy it every day, and being affable I don’t mind saying the odd hello to those that serve, however the regular server or servette in my local wine shop, will also pass the time “hello” hello back or sometimes a larconic g’day depends on my mood, she knows me, I know her we are what’s know in the trade as”aquaintances on a regular basis”, however 5 months ago she called me by name “Hi Tony, how are are you?’, Tony, Tony my name is Chris, I’m not Tony I did not say though, as well, we know each other we are “regular aquaintances”, I know her name (its on her name tag festooned above her left breast) Tony? and now when I walk in (which is every day) I get Hi Tone! i’m not tone, i’m Chris, but I keep silent sometimes I say g’day sometime a cheerful hi, two weeks ago she asked me about my mother in law, “How is Ma? ….. huh Ma fuck Ma of course Ma bottle of sherry every 2nd pension fortnight, “I havent seen her for a while, she ok? ………….oh fuck do I tell her she’s fallen off the perch, and we are now renting out her flat, “Oh Ma, she has not been well,(I don’t think you could get any sicker) Pass on my love tone! so what to do” hows Ma? “not bad still a bit pale (pale fuck you could not get much paler!) “say hello for me “sure will” (next time i’m at rookwood) so over the past couple of weeks I have been having quite a good conversations with the servett, I talk about Ma, she introduces me to all the other friends as her friend Tony, I quite like it really (hehe) , tomorrow I’m thinking of telling her I’m taking Ma on the Kokoda trail………….. ah yes life love see ya Tone x

    1. Crumbsies and crackers, Tone. As they say in the Wizard Of Oz – that’s a horse of a different colour (or bi bear, as the case may be).

      That’s hilare. Your alter ego is alive and well, and buying wine in the East Village. A good alter ought to be active, in imagination and Artful Dodgery! Go forth and prosper, Tone of a different tone.

      1. where was I ………..not quite into the wine shop yet but the sun is moving over yardarm ….huh what does that mean?, for that matter what is a kettle of fish? …………once again off track, “starve the lizzards wuk” galloping goannas, here we go. It wasn’t even my birthday on July first and our PrimeMinister gave me along with another 24 million potential olympians gold medal sailors a Carbon Tax! I personally love a good tax so as a family we decided to save the electricity, we turn off all the heaters ,lights and anything else that goobbles power (how can you turn off Jamie Packer ) and take turns holding the cat! I have allocated cat hugging days and seeing there is 4 of us the cat gets a six hour cuddle 7 days a week, I’m actually thinking of diging up the dog so two of us can stay warm at once! Light is not bad, you know how she said “we will never use those half burnt down candles from the kids birthday parties why keep them?” how wrong she is….. necessity is the mother of invention (eat your heart out Frank Zapper! ..hmmm Zapper quite appropriate the word Zapper when one talks Electricity! where was I oh yeah there I was sitting down holding the cat to my breast reading the Financial times from 15 candles from Charlies 16th birthday party “Wallar” warmth and light, although I do admit the wife does go to bed at 5.45 pm to keep warm, then I spied it our latest electricity account “Eureka” (Eureka where does that come from and dont say Archimedes said it cause the Eureka stockade had not happened when he was around) where was I oh yeah our consumption had gone down 50%. Thanks to the cat that combined with always dropping in to friends places at dinner time I had reduced our power bill by a whopping 50% …………whoops not so fast upon closer examination whilst I had only reduced our consumption by 50%, our Premier Mr Barry (lets go buy a cardigan) O’Farrell had by stealth increased the charge for per killerwat (sic) hour resulting in a 10% net gain whilst using 50 % less and he blames it on the carbon tax! boy if that boy ever gets out of Politics he has a great future in real estate love always Tony

  2. Oh, oh… are we sharing a boat? If the hand-tossed spaghetti means what I think (or am I only seeing a reflection), my pasta, too, is on a parabolic path; approaching apogee with painful, pitiful perigee presenting presently (no present, that, but a perishing of position).

    Hang in there, Wuc; we Wuv ya!

    1. Wyrd to ya mother! Parabolic. Great word. Plus, perigee … pleasing and poetic to me.

      With such beauteous allegory of alliteration, tis good to have thee in my boat. Thanks, Smitty.

      1. Always (or until the warrantee expires)! How fly the omens today?

        Last night my brain salad was tossed (not surgically, of course) by a literal alliteration parade. Passionate parabolae (the pleasing plural!) perfectly portray persons eloquently elliptical (pretty piquantly apropos perhaps).

        Existential & eternal ellipses evoke elevation & ennui; apoapsis & periapsis, hi & lo, by & bi. (Stop by and say, “Hi!”)

        You paint the most exquisite similes; gives my mouth and mind some smiles. (But I’m not sure all ground stations are tracking your metaphorical orbit.)

        post scriptum: I would not have thought to visit Bateniston, tho I do like the King and Queen of that land. Per your kudos and urging, I’ll Switch my thinking and snag the next bit stream hence.

        [stage whisper] pssssst … “rest” .. or “wrest”

  3. I am sure anyone who can write “I am simultaneously devoid of art and yet feel an intense need to create.” can also spell Tourette, Confused? So was I, dear friends. So was I.

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