Monday, 28 January 2008

miss cat, beat poet

& then that cat cat flew outta my head and outta my crib & then he was gone leaving me with adam's rib 'cos it's soooooo like the way the artichokes ramble on and on but then mysteriously he was gone it was said that he came back but i never saw it happen so he's still gone and it's all whack

whatever the place is empty like blue orbits of the moon and when it happens like that it's the middle of june i can't find him no more so i went to the store and stored up more so sore my head's so sore thinking about that cat and his mat and where my head's at i wish and i wish that my thinking weren't flat

mister cat you're tiring me out i need a dish of trout to fill my belly out what you did when you left me last wednesday night it ain't right I'm contrite and my eyes in the light can't see anything anything anything new so what do I do and so man i flew from the door to the store and i can't buy no more this materialism is making me sore

so i say mister cat you making me ache give me a break you just come and you take so you better be back mister cat and that's that

Sunday, 13 January 2008

The Mass Spectrometrists Cat


The Mass Spectrometrists Cat

Sat on the Finnigan Mat

Thursday, 10 January 2008

Singleton chicklit

Thursday 10th Jan. Still single.

Was hoping to be writing about my new man, Tom, but the fucker decided to run off after our date last night.


Had so much fun (note to self: too much fun? Is this bad?) and felt like we really clicked. Disgracefully, let him shag me on our first date. Am dreadful old sleazy floozy.

Obviously was not hard enought to get, as once he'd got he legged it.

Did I give him my number? Can't remember. Damn, damn, damn.

Ha. Will ignore him if (when?) he calls, and pretend have many other gorgeous possible dates after me. That'll teach him. He will then keep calling me and professing undying love. Need to work on my sexy rejection voice for the first few calls.


Unless (horrible thought!) he calls round. FUCK! He might turn up on the doorstep, calling for me! I look like shit!

Need a serious grooming hair is a disgrace!

(Much later, much, much later)

Oh, what's the point?

Fuck it.

Where's those sardines?

Tuesday, 8 January 2008

Trashy Porn

She woke up in darkness, yawned and stretched. It was warm in here, but stifling in more ways than one. Pushing open the door, she stepped briefly into the glow of a streetlight and glanced around. What she needed, she decided, lay towards the less salubrious quarter of town.

Slinking along in the shadows, taking shortcuts through the back alleys, she followed her nose to the fishy smell of the docks. And there, swaggering off the gangplank of a trawler, powerful muscles rippling with every step, was just the fellow she was after.

"Hey, Tom," she called. They always answered to Tom. "Looking for a good time?"

His head jerked around as if he'd been punched on the jaw. "Well, hey there, Kitty," he smiled, showing a dazzling array of teeth. His gaze quickly travelled from her green eyes, taking in the sleekness of her waist before coming to rest on her firm thighs. "What did you have in mind?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

Moments later, their bodies were locked together in a tangle of limbs, thrusting and grinding and that. "Boy, you don't waste any time, do you? You must have been on that boat a loooooooong time. Ah! Yes! Yes! Oooooooooooooohhhhhh! Baby, yes! etc."

A boot came flying past her ear. "Shut the fuck UP! Bloody cats!"

Before she could draw breath, Tom was gone, tail disappearing behind a packing crate.

"Call me!" she yowled hopefully, before heading back towards the bright lights of town.