Table-Talk Tuesday: I am the god of a tiny world.

Welcome Gremlins!

To the interior corridors of my neurosis. To the land where the sweet little frogs of geometric fixation play nice with the rabid crocodiles of a hyperbolic aversion to rain. Or something.

This week I’m fixated with little things, and no, I’m not referring to your dad’s anatomy. Terrariums. Oh dear god. A fucking tiny garden encased in glass. It marries several of my favorite things.

1. Transparent things – (like glass, water, gin, and your father’s intentions).

2. Things so tiny that they’re hardly functional (except that – let’s be reasonable here).

3. Green.

4. Playing god.

So like some perverted cult leader, I’m going to show you how to make your own tiny world to lord over terrarium.

You will need:

1. Something to house your little world.
1. Something phallic to house your demonic little world.
2. Rocks for practical and decorative purposes.
2. Rocks for practical and decorative purposes.
3. Horse shit (stay with me - it's important).
3. Horse shit (stay with me – it’s important).
4. Dirt (or 'potting mix' if you're going to be a wanker about it).
4. Dirt (or ‘potting mix’ if you’re going to be a wanker about it).
5. Tiny plant/s to lord over.
5. Tiny plants to lord over.
6. A majestic animal friend to marvel at your power.
6. A majestic animal comrade to marvel at your power.

Step One

Locate a jar or little-world-receptacle of some kind. You should probably clean it out or something. Fill the bottom with some hell-pebbles.

This will form your underworld.
This will form your underworld.
Revel in your henchwoman's attentiveness. Have you been drinking?
Revel in your henchkitteh’s attentiveness. Have you been drinking kitteh?

Step Two

Crumble the horse shit into a thin layer over the pebbles, this is because I was too cheap to get any charcoal to stop it all looking like mud. Then throw delicately place in some dirt you stole from another pot plant potting mix.

This will form the juicy middle earth on which your tiny empire will thrive.
This will form the juicy middle earth on which your tiny empire will thrive.
Revel in your henchwoman's attentiveness.
Begin to doubt the sobriety of your sidekick.

Step Three

Choose your minions. I’ve heard that you should pick slaves that like it hot and wet. Since I didn’t have any plants that fit that description, I went with the only thing I did have mint and moss.

I can feel their fear already.
I can feel their fear already.

Step Four (optional)

Seal your tiny world.

Isolate your minions from outside influences.
Trap your minions to ‘keep them safe’ from the cat cruel universe.
Wat?
Wat? Go home kitteh you are drunk.

Step Five

Marvel at your creation. Let there be a lamp, look at it and feel confident that you nailed it. Ignore the gaps where you need to rely heavily on the suspension of disbelief in order to make sense of it all.

Marvel in your artistry.
Marvel in your lack of careful planning, ability to cut corners, artistry.
Ignore the doubt and rising distrust in you lieutenant's eyes.
Ignore the doubt and rising distrust in your lieutenant’s eyes.

Step Six

Isolate them from free thinking.
Isolate your tiny community from outside influences like free thinking.
Allow your collegue to sleep off their hangover.
Allow your colleague to sleep off their hangover.

 

Perhaps place them in a spot where they can see their freedom, but never actually reach it.
Perhaps place them in a spot where they can see their freedom, but never actually reach it.
Allow your second in command to resume their majesticness.
Encourage your second in command to resume their majestic-ness (she sobers up fast…)


Congratulations! You are now the god of a tiny world. Now you can sit back and let the minions thrive because you in no way did anything that could annihilate them. Nothing. Certainly none of these things. Your world looks incredible. So there is absolutely no need to compare it to any worlds other gods (like ApartmentTherapy) may have created that may seem for a moment more effective than yours (like these insanely amazing ones on Inhabitat).

For more info on how to be a god of your own tiny planet, you can pick up a copy of Tiny World Terrariums: A Step-by-Step Guide to Easily Contained Life from amazon for about $12.

Or if you have a short attention span like me, you could just watch the video below and learn how to create a terrarium that may actually survive on a larger scale.

Video courtesy of the Burke’s Backyard YouTube channel. You can also view the full facts sheet on the Burke’s Backyard website.

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Table-Talk Tuesday: Part 1 – Un-dating and levels of intensity

The universe is a wonderful jerk – Part One

Stop. Confetti time. I’m graduating this December.

It’s all happening. New beginnings, new phases of life. Happy Marc-Jacobs-ad-fields-of-flowers euphoria times; dating people, un-dating people, roommates moving out, intense family times, the threat of jingle bells, birthdays, weird neighbors, funky bars and  parties, being slightly less anti-social than usual. Lots of exciting things.

Right. So. I’m not good with feelings. “What?! I don’t believe that for a second!” says no one who knows me. So I’ve developed various methods of coping with these stressors and if you have similar goings on or just want a sarcastic guide to getting through break ups/holidays/family events/life changing moments without ripping your eye lashes out one at a time then read on.

I wrote this to seem less narcissistic just for you.

How to deal with un-dating someone: 

Step 1 – Locate heart-wrenching love song.

Step 2 – Apply extreme levels of cynicism.

Example:

1. Adele. Any Adele track.

I love Adele. But in these tough and trying times, you just have to take a step back. Whether her lyrics make sense or not, I firmly believe that a correctly timed Adele record has the power to pickle eight month fetuses in despair thick enough to drive them into the arms of hard liquor as soon as they’re born. Imagine a maternity ward full of tiny wrinkly newborns refusing the boob and reaching their stubby little hands desperately into the overworked nurse’s pockets for cigarettes. This isn’t normal, but on Adele it is.

Moving on.

Take your Adele track – I chose ‘Set fire to the rain’ because it is one of the most ridiculous songs of all time – now listen to the words very carefully – or read them, because there’s no audio here.

“But I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried
‘Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name!

I set fire to the rain
And I threw us into the flames
When we fell, something died
‘Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time!”

– Set fire to the rain, Adele.

2. Apply extreme cynicism. This is not hard.

You can not physically set fire to rain.

Even as a metaphor for erasing the pain of the past it’s weak as fuck – but for the sake of entertainment lets stick to the literal interpretation. There is no room for a balanced view here, these are desperate times. I’m not sure why she needs to touch their face as she watches her lighter go out in the rain that IS NOT BURNING in front of her. I feel like if I were her partner, this would be a defining moment in our post-relationship communications. I would possibly entertain the idea that she is not coping with this particular change of circumstances and perhaps refer her to some sort of professional.

Is the rain is screaming your ex-lover’s name as it burns? Oh it is? Perhaps you should put down the bath salts before you eat someone’s face.

Threw. Into. Flames. Rain flames. Something died. Last time. Rain flames.

STOP. Just stop. Adele, come on. Come on now Adele. Adele, Come on. No one thinks this is deep. You’re not rolling in the deep. You’re rolling in the run-out-of-metaphors-for-being-a-hot-mess. That is all.

Congratulations – you can now survive an Adele song. And sometimes, that’s half the battle.

Moving on.

How to deal with your roommate moving out:

If you’re like me and are a self-made, self-confessed, proud as punch loner fine with being alone, you won’t have a problem. Be sad that they’re gone but excited to have the Hermit Skank Pad (Skank pad… nothing to read into there… moving on) all to yourself. If you’re not like me and weirdly need 90% of your time filled with the noise, sweat and stench of regular human contact, read on.

Step 1. CATS. Practice your cat hoarder skills. Collect ’em all. Dress ’em up. Mumble to yourself. Twitch a little. Build the Sydney Harbour Bridge out of hairballs. There is no one to judge you but cats and the occasional pizza delivery guy, and they’ve probably seen worse at my house anyway.

Step 2. Internet. There is nothing it can’t solve. Learn how to do things on YouTube. Watch documentaries on how hotdogs are made, have hideous meat dreams and then become a vegetarian. Watch back to back episodes of Epic Meal Time and shot vodka every time Harley pulls a serial killer face. Watch viral videos and cry about the state of the world.

Step 3. Porn, I mean reality TV, I mean talking to your cat, I mean becoming an internet troll, I mean Wikipedia editor, I mean… blog on a variety of topics to entertain yourself a small audience.

Step 4. Put a bitch spin on nanna hobbies. Eg: cross-stitch cuss words on to cushions or frame your creations and give them to your family for Christmas (Spoilers: Joshua, I hope you like vagina euphemism-themed home decor).

Step 5. Alcohol, 1950’s style. In tea pots. At a tiny table. With egg cups full of caterpillars.  With your cat dressed in a bonnet. With you dressed in a bonnet. So you can feel proper when you’re getting properly hammered. Alice in wonderland fo’ life mother fuckers!

Bonnets. They’re a bad sign.

Step 6. Exercise. It’s good for you and it relieves stress. Seriously.

Commercial break – Hipster pictures:

My cactus is flowering… And this plant is in bloom too. Who says I can’t grow things (everyone)?
I call it ‘sexual frustration in overcast’. Deep as fuck.
Whimsical fox does whimsical things in a plant pot.

Back to our regular programming.

The Dos and Don’ts of awkward ideological clashes with a friend or loved one:

Depending on the level of intensity…

A family member strongly expresses intolerance towards your religion/lack of religion

Do – respectfully assert your right to believe what you want, agree to disagree and exit the situation.

Don’t – Mock their deity. Don’t talk about imaginary friends. Don’t quote religious texts. Avoid comments on their religious leaders dress sense. Don’t be patronising and avoid sarcasm.

Political differences with a friend

Do – have an adult discussion involving the calm exchange of ideas.

Don’t – yell “treason!” at the top of your lungs.

Psychotic levels of bigotry from someone close to you –

Do – Call them out on their behavior and try to separate the problematic view from them as a person to minimise blame and facilitate a healthy dialogue on the topic.

Don’t – Call them a ‘redneck’.

And so ends part one. Tune in next week for more fun ‘how to cope’ advice for real life hypothetical situations written for DIY therapy your entertainment.

Next week: Christmas carols ruin lives, Please return your ‘I’m a real adult’ card, Hanging out in Bars Vs the National Geographic Channel, and People who give birth close to Christmas are pricks.

Text Thursday: Carve, Crazyhorse, and Cats don’t wait for Godot.

Image courtesy of icanhascheezburger.com

Brittle Star

Hometown: London.

Open to: Everyone.

Medium: Poetry (max. 4 poems) and short fiction (max 2 entries 2000wds, double spaced).

Deadline: Year round.

Email/Post/Carrier Pigeon: email and post – currently only accepting post.

Doesn’t Accept: Previously published work or simultaneous submissions.

Paid: unclear.

For more info, click the title link.

Carve magazine

Hometown: USA.

Open to: Everyone.

Medium: Short literary fiction (max 10,000wds) and Photography.

Deadline: Year round.

Email/Post/Carrier Pigeon: Submishmash.

Doesn’t Accept: Genre fiction, previously published work (simultaneous submissions with notification).

Format Guidelines: Double spaced, cover letter, contact details in header.

Paid: $20-$50 per story.

Other: Provides feedback on 10-15% of rejected submissions.

For more info, click the title link.

Dorothy Prize

Hometown: USA.

Open to: Everyone.

Medium: Lyric poems (<30 lines).

Deadline: 20th Oct 2012.

Email/Post/Carrier Pigeon: Mail.

Doesn’t Accept: Previously published work.

Format Guidelines: Poems on separate sheets (see website for more guidelines).

Theme: celebration of the spirit of life

Fee: $10 per entry for mail from US residents. International entries are free.

Prize: up to $25,000.

For more info, click the title link.

Crazy Horse

Hometown: USA.

Open to: Everyone.

Medium: Fiction (max 25 pages), poetry (max 5), essays.

Deadline: reading period from Sept 1 – May 31.

Email/Post/Carrier Pigeon: online.

Doesn’t Accept:  Previously published work. Accepts simultaneous submissions.

Format Guidelines: .docx, .doc, .pdf, or .rtf file. Times or Arial font (for more guidelines, see website).

Paid: $20-35 per page of layout .

For more info, click the title link.

That’s all for today, happy submitting!

Table-Talk Tuesday: ‘Golden Hour’, fat lips and the meaning of life.

Sunday Afternoon.

– Fireworks.

I overheard the meaning of life
on the 8:09

I wrote the meaning
of life on a fifty
I swapped

the fifty for change
and a pink grapefruit

whoever you are
I want you to know
that grapefruit was shit

golden skinned, brown inside
mottled pink as bruised lip

I sincerely hope you are better
with philosophy
than you are with grapefruits.

Flowers with fat lips.

Table-Talk Tuesday: Nuns, Pixlr Purn, and Baba Yaga.

It is in these moments that cats dream of world domination.

A Moment with the Nun.

On Sunday I met some nuns and their friend, a woman in a fluffy pink coat.

“You really should have a tip jar, you silly little girl” said the woman in the pink coat.

I smiled, lips thin as a shoelace.

The tiny nun at her side looked at me and rolled her eyes.

Galaxy fabric on the train.
Rhubarb – the exhibitionist vegetable.

Just so we’re Crystal Clear

She’s going for new age but looking more Baba Yaga with every visit.

She wore a chain of bells around her hips. She sounded like a sleigh as she hobbled towards me.

“Remember what I told you about the crystal?” she said.

“I remember.”

She pushes up her insect-eye sunglasses and squints at me expectantly.

“Never touch another person’s crystal.” I said.

“That’s right darling. It’s for your own good. Bad energies.” she said, her eyes half lidded.

“That’s right.” I nodded.

“Can we bring our beers in here?” she said, curling her bony hand around a schooner.

Lonely Trees hold each other and reach their hands to the clouds.
Ew – overcast.