This is one of the earliest fragments found which frankly at the time made no sense. 

An epiloguen prologuen beginnium or a Tame Impala

49. SUNDAY NIGHT – Weird Fishes


“DO YOU THINK it is the NECESSITY of women to manage absolutely EVERYTHING. LET SOMETHINGS BE!”. His voice was defiant.

Joanna looked at John Porter.

She assessed him. His older earnest and dictatorial misogyny suggested he knew more.

“You see the place is empty” said John Porter “No one here”.

He swooshed his arm at the dim lit book filled library books strewn on shelves behind him. Joanna wasn’t convinced. In ignorance of any additional presence she began to relent.

John Porter knew what he had to do.

Forty years of repetitive service told him. He drew the blinds, turned off the lights and moved to shut the door and reset the alarm.What’s more it was all that he was prepared to do as far as Joanna’s mother Ita was concerned. She could defend whatever memory she wanted.

She stopped the door with a leg jam. Her smooth denim thigh disarmed John. He roared. Deep from his youth was a question:

“What if he could sleep with her despite their age difference.” She was as beautiful as her mother.

“What did you say?”

 “Why are you here?”

She squeezed her thigh back out and pulled a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“You fucking know!” Joanna said as another stray strand cast a sabre like swathe in from of her bright green eyes.

Suddenly over his shoulder she glimpsed a menagerie of fish projected over  before he slammed the door of the public library shut.

John Porter on a better day. He usually got on with birds.
“Fuck ass pissflaps”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s