izzy

iPhone predictive text:
struggling to keep up with the best of all of them in the morning and the first half of the day; the only thing that would make it so hard for you and your friends to play with the other side is that you are the same

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sarah

Songs that I have Shazamed on my phone:

‘Tropical Oceans’ – D. D Dumbo
‘A Candle’s Fire’ – Beirut
‘Back in the Game (Explicit)’ – Jamie T
‘The Renegade (Addicted To Bass Winter 2013 Edit) – Friend Within
‘Down’ – The Kooks
‘Birth in Reverse’ – St. Vincent
‘We The Common’ – Thao & The Get Down Stay Down
‘I Wonder’ – Rodriguez
‘True Colours’ – Cindy Lauper
‘Catastrophe!’ – Julia Stone
‘A Sunday Smile’ – Beirut
‘The Book of Love’ – The Magnetic Fields
‘One Day I’ll Fly Away’ – Randy Crawford
‘Cotton Eyed Joe’ – Terry Callier
‘Hijo De La Luna’ – Montserrat Caballé
‘Jacques Offenbach: The Tales Of Hoffman: Barcarolle: Belle Nuit, Ô Nuit D’amour’ – Joan Sutherland & Richard Bonynge & Elizabethan Sydney Orchestra & Marilyn Horne
‘Lehár: The Merry Widow / Act 2-Vilja-Lied’ – Richard Bonynge / New Philharmonia Orchestra / Ambrosian Light Opera Chorus / Dame Joan Sutherland
‘Surrender’ – Ball Park Music
‘Phantasmagoria Blues’ – Mark Lanegan Band
‘Questa Notte’ – Ludovico Einaudi
‘R U Mine?’ – Arctic Monkeys
‘Solitude Is Bliss’ – Tame Impala
‘Kalmukki’ – Kimmo Pohjonen
‘Who’ll Stop The Rain’ – John Fogerty
‘Crave You’ – Flight Facilities Feat. Giselle
‘World Spins Madly On’ – The Weepies
‘Raconte-Moi Une Histoire’ – M83
‘Chopin: 12 Etudes Op.25: No.11 in A Minor, ‘Winter Wind’ – Nikolai Lugansky
‘Sigur 3 (Samskeyti) – Sigur Rós
‘Dreamshaker’ – The Redcoats
‘I Belong To The Band’ – Mavis Staples
‘Exile Vilify (From The Game Portal 2)’ – The National

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izzy

iPhone predictive text:
cumbersome, and a few weeks of the year before the end of this

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sarah

That gut-punch hunger comes crawling back
slopping through the sick sad streets again
pawing at my knee, big lost cat eyes and a bad dog tail
Go ‘way, I hiss, kicking it off subtle-like
so the punters can’t see
rictus grinning for the security cameras
impassive as a street sign
It spins a pathetic circle and nestles back into my pant leg
Meows so pathetically
Says it’s so sorry
It never meant for
Not on purpose
Oh please, it says
Oh puh-leeeeeease
The neighbours are looking now
Weird girl kicking her knees out
Scabies, I hear one whisper
You can see it from a mile off
Puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease
Shut the fuck up, I say
Shut up now
Jesus, yes, you can stay again
Don’t fuck it up this time
Goddamn it

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izzy

iPhone predictive text:
underneath the stars are so many things that make you feel like a little more time with the other side is a good idea but the fact is that you have no idea

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sarah

Proposed new answering machine message:

‘Hi, you’ve called Sarah. I’ve probably pressed the lock button on my iPhone to mute the ringtone so I can disregard your call without alerting you to the fact that I’m ignoring you on purpose! Don’t worry, I get irrationally anxious at the prospect of phone conversations, even though I worked at a call centre for two years! Weird, huh? Don’t leave a voicemail. Just text or email me. Seriously. I’m so much more likely to respond to text communication. Don’t you find writing just much more comforting than the harshness of speech? Did you read a lot as a child? I did. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to talk to you right now. If this is mum, you can go ahead and leave a voice message starting with ‘Oh, hi love’, where you sound surprised even though you’ve heard my whole voicemail message and waited for the beep and everything. Even you are better off texting me. I like that you’ve discovered emojis. They give your texts an adorable teen girl hysteria that I particularly enjoy. Everyone else, your call is important to us. No, really. I’m sorry about my social inadequacies. Let’s not talk about it. Literally.’

Beep.

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izzy

Phone predictive text poem:
sometimes you gotta be the same thing over and over again and it will not let you go

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sarah

Facebook users suggests titles for Oscar Pistorius’ reported tell-all book about the night his girlfriend died, as taken from comments on an East Coast Radio post asking whether people would buy it (all typos are as posted):

I can’t remember my lady
Book of lies my lady
Murder and How to get away with it Part 1
THE BOOK OF LIES
50 shades of lies
HOW LIES CAN HELP U GET AWAY WITH MURDER
How money can help you get away with murder n call it cupible homocide
Me, Myself and I
No my lady, I can’t remember my lady
Becos I scream like a woman
How to be a liar 101
Dummy guide “how to get away with murder”
Laughing All The Way to the Bank or Blood Money
Zero Recall
Cricket bat diaries
Bullet for my valentine
How to kill your woman and get away with it
Getting away with murder
HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER
I don’t recall my lady
The untold lies
How to get away with murder
My 50 shades of lies
More lies
A million ways to lies
How to murder your partner ans get away with it

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izzy

you are your own galaxy and I am mine
each of us contains a thousand worlds
filled with countless tiny ecosystems

we are constantly losing parts of ourselves
and evolving new parts to take their place
folding inwards before we regenerate

I have a black hole somewhere in my stomach
the last of an endangered species of seabird circling your brow

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sarah

the cricket rubs his legs together and makes music
so beautiful that when you slow it down, it sounds like a choir of angels
calling the holiest name of god
nobody gives him shit for not having a thigh gap

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izzy

I dream that you are next to me, but we are in space
so the space between us is actually a billion light years wide
and filled with asteroids and tiny stars that supernova when you touch them

I spend tens of thousands of years in human endeavour trying to figure out how to reach you
when it’s as simple as moving my hands

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sarah

thank you very good much
for the for the thing that you
that we
uh
thank all of for you and
wait
thank for
hang on
I have got this
thank job
ha, bank job
thank job for bank job everyone
cheers!
ta
is now the part where we make out
I hope so

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izzy

it’s in the breath it took to say ‘goodbye’
or the sliding shy eyes and quivering hands
of the first hello
the space between the bed and the wall
or the crack of it coming undone when I rolled over
in the dead of a sweltering night
now there is a festa raging on your street
half-remembered jokes and habits
blending in with the cushions,
you could be forgiven for thinking I never left.

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sarah

Five non-essential admissions:

1. I am frightened of going blind. Sometimes I cross my eyes and try to do day-to-day tasks like that as a way of testing how I would respond to sudden double vision. When I have panic attacks, it feels like my vision is tunneling. I get scared when I’m driving along freeways that my eyes will stop working and I’ll crash.

2. Sometimes when I get premenstrual, I get so deeply, viscerally angry at tiny things that I want to pick fights with strangers so I can punch them as hard as I can. I once kicked a rubbish bin outside the VCA until I dented it and people looked at me like I’d gone crazy. I tried Googling whether increased testosterone could be part of PMS but couldn’t find a definitive answer. I wonder whether this is what it feels like to be a man.

3. If I knew I was dying, I would take heroin, sleep with strangers and probably commit suicide (not necessarily in that order). I don’t understand people who say ‘Don’t be morbid.’ I think that thinking about death all the time is totally sensible. I mean, shit. It’s going to happen. Might as well be prepared.

4. I am more attracted to men with long fingers and I wonder whether it’s because I equate this with penis size. This has, in my experience, been a reasonably accurate indicator.

5. I pray for safety on every plane I get on, not because I believe in God, but because I’m worried that the one time I don’t do it will be the one time the plane goes down. I am more scared of mid-air turbulence than taking off and landing, even though the vast majority of crashes happen during those times. I still think that flying into a sunrise is the most beautiful thing you can do while sitting down.

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izzy

if I was a pigeon, I’d find the highest point in the city
and come home to roost in it every night
if I was a pigeon, I’d look in all the highest windows
I’d fly through shopping malls
I’d throw myself at windows
I’d fly right past your ear and whisper ‘it’s gonna be ok’
if I was a pigeon, I wouldn’t wait til you were done
before swooping in for the scraps
if I was a pigeon, I’d shit on everything you love.
if I was a pigeon, I’d watch over you.

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sarah

The following names are now banned on the grounds of being too passive-aggressive:
Chastity
Hope
Faith
Grace
Serenity
Fido

FUCK YOU, MOM AND DAD, YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO.
I’M CHANGING MY NAME TO UNICORN WRESTLER AND YOU CAN’T EVEN STOP ME.

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izzy

She was going to restock the counter anyway. Updating the milk order’s easy enough – it’s still only 2pm. Shame about all that tomato sauce, but it can’t be helped. She staunches the flow of milk mixing into the red with Wednesday papers. No one ever buys those anyway. The door is hanging off its hinge, stuck in front of the sensor so the buzzer sounds continuously. The air hangs weirdly too, holding onto the aftershocks. The woman had been made of nothing but muscle. Glistening and tan, wearing a fluorescent pink bikini. Her hair bleached white, scraped back into a ponytail held with a scrunchie. Surely it must be steroids or something. She had rippled when she walked. She had snapped the insides of the milk bar in half like tiny little bird bones. Now the bodybuilder was gone and there was only the echo of her cries, ‘look at this body, look at this fuh-king body’ – she had said ‘fucking’ like that, like it was two separate words – and so much spilt milk.

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sarah

He cried when his father died
which surprised him
he looked into the mirror at his puffy hot face
and for the first time, saw how his nose
was just like his dad’s
and wondered how often the man who raised him
had spent sobbing in bathroom cubicles
while his wife waited outside

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izzy

tote bag:
I REDUCED MY TRAGEDY ONTO THIS TOTE BAG

tote bag:
GET INTO GOON

tote bag:
PUKE THE RAINBOW

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sarah

Imagine how different fairy tales would have been if fructose intolerance had been a thing back then.
‘Snow White new face of FODMAPS diet.’
‘Heracles disdains 11th labour, citing fear of gastric cramps.’
‘Eve lectures snake: ‘I don’t care if it’s the fruit of knowledge, I can’t eat that shit.’’

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