A pint of some kind of beverage of her choice.
It was recently brought to my attention that my poems are pointless. Well, that wasn't news to me, to be honest, I don't think that poems really have to be anything special, or profound. To me, they're a vessel for letting thoughts out, but in a different way from prose. I don't really care about the normal trappings of a poem (enjambement, rhyming, repetition etc), but I do care if I get thoughts out of my head. One of my favourite poets is Spike Milligan. If you've read anything by him, you'll know that his poems are generally silly little things, based on snippets of his life, like White Mice, where he asks "what colour is the price of those white mice?" That was inspired by his daughter, asking that question, and he turned it into a poem. It had significance for him, but to the reader, it was just a silly poem.
But, I'm now asking you: What the hell is a poem, to you?
Hmm, red. I'm pretty wary of it, but I do like warmer colours more than cool ones, not to mention, I got really sick of blue when I was building computers, 'cause most LED fans, when LED fans were first popular, were blue. It was truly horrid.
Can you think of anything scarier than a zombie clown, who is infected with Ebola?
Well, I may have an interview soon. I'm being shortlisted, so here's hoping they bring me in, and then I get the job. Once I get the job, I can finally implement my plans. Though, I am worried about one thing, and that's my tendinitis getting worse. The job requires a lot of typing, so if I'm given a crappy keyboard, I'm screwed. I remember when I was working, I was pretty prolific because I had ready made stories just unfolding in front of me. Not that I ever used any of them ;)
"Handsome Kitty." Aria. It makes me blush all the time.
Hot tea, for sure. Oh and a cuddle. Really close and tight one, that lasts until the tea is cool enough to drink, then I shall drink my tea, then resume cuddling.
Are zombies or clowns scarier?
Hmm, I don't know. It involves a bunch of things, but nothing really specific. I do know that I'm afraid. I don't know why, I have no idea why I feel nervous, why I'm feeling anxious. What started it, I don't know.
There is one thing I know for sure. I want Aria. I want to snuggle with her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to meet her sometime soon. I have not got the money. I can't seem to get a job, my jewellery doesn't seem to sell, therefore I can't meet her. For nearly two years we've been friends, and more than friends, and really all I want to do, is get over there, live with her and start my life with her.
I just can't stand not being there.
Please, I just want to be there.
Please.
Neither. I don't fancy celebrating a massacre, and we don't have Thanksgiving in Britain.
Enchanted forest or spooky castle?
Well, it isn't a holiday, but Hallowe'en. I just love dressing up and scaring folk and being silly, and doing spells and protection rituals.
Have you ever walked into a lamp post, or bumped into it with a bag, and then apologised to it?
A bunch of banter and myself being silly.
Dessert. I'm in the mood for something sweet.
Phil Collins' era Genesis or Peter Gabriel's era Genesis?
I'll be greedy and say beer and wine... In the same glass.
Naughty or nice?
Nuffink, but my bottle holds water.
Autumn day foliage. It just feels warmer and looks more beautiful.
Hustle and bustle or peace and quiet?
I think you might be on the wrong site, Sin, but I'll answer: Flogger. More surface area equals more pain, which equals more pleasure.
Audio: Digital or analogue?
I win, but I'll be lost soon... I'm off to write a story. Probably.