Ancient apercus from April 2007

Cloudy all day, it's why Tuesdays don't shine

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, April 25, 2007 - 10:47:56

Rain on, rain on, got the frog stomping going on. Drowning in the marsh, head deep in despair and regret, the little one looks for a peace outside the silencing of peers. Where it's only a matter of time before the click and thud. Head deep into the marsh, to drown the sounds around.

It's only not Tuesday, and maybe it's not Thursday, it certainly can't be Wednesday. Time is irrelevant with no schedule, no plan and no agenda. Following the path of the moon into the sea of the sun is all that matters here in terms of time. A coastal feeling in an arid landscape. Save for the pools of standing water, infecting those who sup at its horrid teat.

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Thinking they're great, some new kind of drug

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, April 18, 2007 - 23:57:25

Rub some of that red dirt into the eyes, washing it with the urine of the baby goat drying out on the cooling fire. Skinned alive while otherwise dead, it's pleasure unfound and unsound when the maggots get into the ears.

Chew hard enough and with enough vigour and it's the juices what spill down the front of the broken skin what leaves the taste sensation that rocks with the self flagellation.

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Stare at the sound follow them around

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, April 11, 2007 - 23:40:56

Paranoia is the key to survival, scratching at the side of the face to turn away the hair which covers the side ways and glimpses.

From the casket to the basket, it's a ring a ding ding, they sing on a whim and whistle their cares away. Careless lot that they are, blind and deaf to the oncoming advances of the bullets and pocket traces of lead heading their way.

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Easter road toll pockets a hole in the rise up from last year

Ethan Switch - Tuesday, April 10, 2007 - 23:52:25

Crack a splat of chocolate on the roads, it's another collection of tin foil, body wraps and the crunch of bones on the nation's bitumen strips. As Easter brings with it a time of reflection and the nudging of the slumber after three days in the dark, it's high time to remember where the score really matters. Of blood and broken guts with an increase this year in the number to pop a collar to jut at a round alphabet 26 for the whole of Australia.

Starting Victoria and Australia strong, a cyclist makes good on the spinning of his wheels and of life into death as he smears a mark as the first on the board. Others follow and even the lay over into a hospital was good enough for the numbers of Victoria to nab an impressive 10, seven over that of last year's paltry showing.

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Another Good Friday for the metallic egg shooting bunnies and bilbies

Ethan Switch - Friday, April 6, 2007 - 23:54:04

Questionable substances riddle the outer linings of Kinder surprise and Faberge eggs during this, a most severed time of the Christian calendar. Where the case and shells in the time of Easter makes for curious hunts in the middle of the day in backyards and grass parks. Where small salivating children on sugar frenzies run amok banging baskets in search over hard boiled eggs which they can only hope melt in their pockets and not hatch a chick.

Patron monster of such time as to spread this long weekend, the Easter bunny. To the most parochial of Australians, a switch up for the bilby to deliver a most diuretic message of faith in carobs and cocoa.

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Whispering at everything she brings

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, April 4, 2007 - 23:05:09

Filthy scatters in the brush, with the severed hand flopping about ready to land in the bowl of dirt soup at the edge of the group. With a step and a pace quick to the beat of misery, she hands out the dead meat like a dwarf running up a hill made of marshmallow.

Her mere presence is the stuff of legend, reading off the cues and visions of others before to determine her mark and her bite. What she brings, nobody wants, nobody needs, nobody cares for. She is the bringer of death and his sickly bed, pus filled with the sheets encrusted in void sperm.

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