Comments Posted By bb333

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He walked off stage with a grin from ear to ear and his ukulele. He cocked one eyebrow at her. Sara desperately did not want to smile back. Baker was jubilant. And annoyingly handsome. She was still fuming. “Don’t bother coming the cowboy with me Sonny Jim” she said, meaning it. But as the words slipped from her mouth she realised that he had indeed come the cowboy well and truly in his usually flamboyant fashion. She was powerless against his charm. God, she said, I am definitely not getting a drink with you.

» Posted By bb333 On 10.10.2018 @ 7:43 pm

Its like all of life. The most monumental events all come down to a series of tiny insignificant moments. Wendy would never have been able to guess that those few scribbled lines on a chalkboard in a convent school on the border of Chile and Peru would lead her to knowing what she now knew.

» Posted By bb333 On 10.10.2018 @ 7:27 pm



Do you think you could catch my pain as it moves towards you? Perhaps if you were to fondle it gently, pat it like a dog, it might transform. My pain could become a bulging red love heart or a white cloud ready to float straight back past my face. If I had to guess at it though, I do not think that you will be catching my pain. I think you plan to punch it in the face to make it swell and bleed.

» Posted By bb333 On 09.08.2017 @ 10:38 pm


This came up yesterday and I couldn’t figure a thing to write. Funny how life works out. Just 24 hours later, here I am. Exactly that thing. A messy little pile of broken pieces. Promises, hopes, dreams. Poof. Gone. The only thing left of you is the phone charger you left in my socket. So at least you’ll be back.

» Posted By bb333 On 09.08.2017 @ 10:23 pm

Grace dropped the instrument at her feet and listened for the sound of gunfire. Bullets echoed faintly, their whistles almost lost in the windy din of an October storm. Stalin was coming. Just as Daddy said he would.

» Posted By bb333 On 09.08.2017 @ 10:17 pm



You must always move quickly, she said.
For even when things seem calm, the vultures will still be at your back.
You can not see them coming.
Stay alert. And never leave yourself exposed in the morning sun.

» Posted By bb333 On 09.04.2017 @ 4:56 pm


We do not lack choice. This morning for instance I could walk down to the ocean and throw myself into it, allowing myself to bob and float at its will. Or I could put my body on the bus and take it to the art gallery and stand in front of my favourite Brett Whiteley painting. Either of those things would most likely make me feel as if life was worthwhile. I could embark on a new career or finish the one I started. But predictability, I will make the incorrect choice and allow myself to sit here and seeth over the endless piles of vomit you continue to leave at my feet.

» Posted By bb333 On 09.04.2017 @ 4:48 pm

The world fell from the sky and applied the weight of itself to her chest. Underneath it her burning heart constricted and lapsed. She wondered if the words on the screen were just words on the screen or if they were the end of her. It was hard to reconcile the two. She looked down again consuming each one carefully. Then she began to put them back together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle hoping that once assembled they might create a different picture. But no.

» Posted By bb333 On 09.04.2017 @ 4:26 pm


The shadows of winter Fridays were long and purple. Their giant tendrils stretched entire length of our back yard. The tall pines over at the Whitelys refused entry to the sun almost entirely, and thats why we would find ourselves always huddled up in the very same corner, every afternoon while we waited for Mamma to come. It was the only place where the light touched our face and the daisies found the courage to break up through the surface of the buffalo grass.

» Posted By bb333 On 08.17.2017 @ 12:51 am



If there was one thing I remember about Missy Collins its that she was not a young woman who liked to take instructions. It wasn’t that she didn’t like learning. She had a curious mind and an often dangerous appetite for adventure, always pushing herself to new limits and trying new things. Certainly Shane Crawford had been witness to that. So it wasn’t that she didn’t want to suck all the beautiful juice out of life, its just that she god damn hated being told what to do.

» Posted By bb333 On 08.09.2016 @ 11:55 pm


Sometimes in the morning they would be tender with each other. Gentle strokes. Soft kisses. But mostly there was something animal like between them. A desperate urge on both fronts to sink into each others flesh, to push and pull at the pain and anger buried underneath and by ripping it out of the other, set it free from themselves.

» Posted By bb333 On 08.09.2016 @ 11:44 pm

By the end of the summer she had transformed the entire coastline from the point at Devil’s Head right around the Bay of Saints. Where once laid piles of hopelessly abandoned flotsam and jetsam there now appeared a delicate trail of lace, with one piece of junk joined to another by way of intricately crocheted cobwebs shimmering in the coastal breeze, the entire structure magically unfolding like the wing of a giant angel.

» Posted By bb333 On 08.09.2016 @ 11:31 pm



Judgement was coming. She could feel it. She’d known this crowd for fifteen years and considered them to be firm friends, but things had felt different since the separation. She had been the only one to split from her husband and it had been, well, messy to say the least. After a brief affair with someone else’s husband she had found a new man. A delightfully polite and quite sexy man with good career prospects. She felt comfortable with him – happy even, but she could feel herself pulling him directly into the firing line. Poor lame duck with an eager to please smile on his face. Her friends lined themselves up along the table, the official jury.

» Posted By bb333 On 08.05.2016 @ 5:54 pm


Riley flicked the pages. Harry held the torch.
What the hell? asked Harry. Eyes wide.
Riley kept flicking.
No. Wait. Go back. Wha….?
Harry couldn’t fathom the feeling. He felt his head getting hotter. It was definitely hot in here, under the covers. He ran his fingers across the page while Riley giggled in his earhole. Dear Mother of God. That perfectly rosey flesh. The curves. The strange ugly parts of those women that were so unbearably beautiful.

Harry knew then that he was changed.

» Posted By bb333 On 08.05.2016 @ 5:44 pm

I wasn’t exactly sure if we were dating or not until Edgar pushed his tongue into my mouth. Prior to that there’d been signs. He’d asked to walk me home after the athletics carnival and we’d stopped by the pond and sat swinging out legs above the slimey, green water. He told me about his comic collection and about how Phoebe Smart had lost her underpants when his brother Riley pushed her into the creek. That was almost romantic. And two weeks before that he had brushed my hand with his right after he stole two lemons off Kristen Oliver’s lemon tree. But I wasn’t absolutely certain until I felt that slippery slug push against the back of my throat. I must say it was difficult to breathe. I thought I should push my tongue back at his but frankly there wasn’t room for that. So I retreated and held my breath, waiting for it to end.

» Posted By bb333 On 08.05.2016 @ 4:44 pm


The meeting of one’s self seemed to be a very tricky business. Ginny set about it in her usual diligent fashion. Each morning around nine thirty she would sit herself cross legged in the same position, by the window, face to the sun and she would breathe, slowly, purposefully, mind-ful-ly. And then in the gap between her thoughts, oh yes there is such a thing, she would look for her SELF, which was an extremely most important thing to do according to Leo and Deepak and various other spiritual youtube sensations.

It wasn’t her every day ego self that she needed to find, not the one that wanted desperately to lose 20 kilos and shag Robert Finburn from the bus stop. That self was already sitting there on the shabby green carpet, full of despair. The other self. The one that was connected to the universe through supreme consciousness. She looked. She looked bloody hard. Went searching through the rainbows of colours behind her eyelids and the sounds of a babbling brook coming from her meditation podcast. She had literally been searching for months. She really began to wish that one of these god damn gurus would clarify what exactly her SELF might look like, because it sure as hell didn’t seem to be showing up anywhere in her ‘field of awareness’. Apparently you just had to FEEL it. After four months all Ginny could feel was her protruding stomach resting on the top of her thighs and the occasional tingle in the general genital region when images of Robert with his geisha girl tattoo surfaced in her mind.

» Posted By bb333 On 07.08.2016 @ 7:02 pm


A bitch of day. Willie loosened his tie and shuffled, at last with a little enthusiasm, down the south end of Bourke Street past the Seven Eleven and souvlaki bar. Lizzy would be waiting for him. Tender, ripe, delicious Lizzy with her pale blue eyes and vicious humour, the dead calm in the centre of his chaotic sea. He pushed through the gate just as Bailey was leaving – the fat Silk from Camperdown with a penchant for bridles and horsewhips. They made a silent acknowledgement on the footpath. Missy was still readjusting her hair. Willie always arrived unannounced and yet she always seemed to expect him. She reached out for his hand. ‘Now. Where were we?’, she purred.

» Posted By bb333 On 07.07.2016 @ 6:38 pm



She did not know if it was right to admit it but she was quite sure she loved him more than Jesus. Certainly way more than Barry. And Dear God, Peter Laylor her pitiful husband could not even come close with his balding head and bad manners. She looked to the heavens and thanked her lucky stars that God had had the foresight to allow her husband to pass early. Throat cancer. A tragedy at just forty two years old. Everyone said so.

And now after five long years in a cold bed there was a man. A beautiful, perfect man with strong brown forearms and the touch of a feather. And a tongue that took her places she never dreamed existed. She knew that it must be a sin to feel this way, like teenage rebels who met the rising sun with all of the passion from the night before still fresh on their skin.

» Posted By bb333 On 07.05.2016 @ 11:35 pm


When he left her, Jerry hadn’t bothered to pack the alarm clock, or his Dad’s old dictionary, or the tacky thermometer from Portugal shaped like a ships wheel or his enormous map of London. He left them all there in the presence of her being. They could have her. She could have them. He had his iPhone and the dim glow it cast over his bare apartment on freezing winter mornings.

» Posted By bb333 On 07.05.2016 @ 11:21 pm


No kidding, insisted Sarah. I once sat on a beach and watched a hippo walk straight into the ocean.
Billie grinned at her with his wide gappy smile, marvelling at her long brown legs and full pink lips. He was inclined to believe anything she might say.
Naahhhhh, he goaded. Ya, couldn’ve.
No shit Billie. It was a brown beach, with chocolate sand like velvet. In Cameroon of all places. But I kid you not my friend. It was almost dark and as I sipped my beer I looked up and a fat baby hippo with its shiny pink belly trotted down the beach beside me and dived straight into Atlantic Ocean. Just like that.

» Posted By bb333 On 07.05.2016 @ 9:44 pm

By the time the barbeque had turned out a table full of steak and sausages the conversation had started to close in like surly rain clouds. What the men lacked in imagination they made up for in feeble belly laughing. With their long forks and tongs were still comparing the alcohol content in their craft brews, but in the kitchen the women were brewing up a storm with Jules and her sordid affair at its epicentre. There was significant judgement and far less forgiveness, and no acknowledgement whatsoever that all that talk of wild sex was perhaps revealing a glaring absence of passion in their own bedrooms, or kitchens as the case may be.

» Posted By bb333 On 07.05.2016 @ 9:29 pm


New Hope is burning. The putrid stench of fried carcass is hurtling through the valley. Flames are sprinting up the highway. It won’t be long til they reach Jerrilderee. Clara called and reckons it was arsonists who started it down at Fallboy Creek. There is no time to save our cattle or collect our belongings, the southerlies are fierce and the three year drought has left the land with no resistance. There is time only to shuffle Ringo and Yoko in to the back of the ute and head north away from the sirens. I’m going to need a fricking drink.

» Posted By bb333 On 06.22.2016 @ 6:23 pm


There is no deity here. I can not see a man with a beard nor a voluptuous Indian goddess with many hands. There is purely existence and the endless unravelling of the universe. Birds picking at the ground searching for worms, upending fallen autumn leaves. Cars that people have built passing houses that people have built. Built from trees from which autumn leaves have fallen on to the ground where birds have upended them to look for worms. And in their midst another body with a mind inside that writes and hopes and falls in love. Then writes and hopes and falls in love again. And again.

» Posted By bb333 On 06.22.2016 @ 6:11 pm



Those big strong hands, nimble and gifted, always tapping, scraping, painting, fixing. In seventy five years they had carved up the carcasses of hundreds of head of cattle, built countless houses, crafted tables, chairs and cricket bats and had nursed the engines of hundreds of cars and trucks back to life. They’d held the innocent heads of his own flesh and blood and had also found their mark when those babes grew old enough to talk back.

Now they tremble and can’t hold his cup of tea. He settles in to his chair for morning tea in any case and fixes himself in line with the ray of sunlight bouncing off the ranges. The winter up here can be bitter and there is a whiff of snow in the breeze. But he lifts his face and feels the sun.

His children no longer come by. He misses his grandchildren, their boisterous crashing and shouting. But his son and daughter and all of their complications just got too much for him, he couldn’t make sense of it and all the worry left him shaking. It is easier this way he reconciled. One gulp of tea down. A little warmth to fill the hole in his heart.

» Posted By bb333 On 06.22.2016 @ 5:56 pm


Lenny was not allowed to smoke on account of his Dad being the school principal and his Ma being the local publican who knew absolutely everyone there was to know in Dingley. So he hid his cigarettes in the crook of the enormous fig tree in Mrs Maloney’s garden. She was eighty two and blind so Lenny was sure as eggs that Mrs Maloney was never going to catch him lighting up and spill the beans. He had started out by pinching the odd cigarette from punters at the pub when they weren’t looking or had swilled too many beers to notice, but these days he earned his money from carting wood for old man Jones and he could afford to buy his own – a pack a week now for five dollars fifty.

» Posted By bb333 On 06.13.2016 @ 2:41 am

As the volvo lurched home along the highway Jezza and Malcolm tried to make sense of what had happened. The fish had been biting. There was the ice cold nip of the water at their ankles and the gentle whisper of the southerlies whipping against the top of the mountains just above the silence. And then the body that floated by. Out of nowhere the pale blue skin, the twin peaks of adolescent breasts, the cracked ruby lips and those staring dead eyes. Accusing them. Not a word had passed between them. Jezza grabbed her listless hand and swept the blonde hair away from her face. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. They had both thought it but neither of them had been brave enough to utter the words. “Lets just let her float by. Down the river. No one will know.” But now she lay covered with Jezza’s footy blanket in the boot of the car.

» Posted By bb333 On 06.13.2016 @ 2:03 am

It was the place where we lay closest together that we drifted so far apart. During the day we had all the drama of life to contend with; work and the kids and mundane things to be taken care of like shopping lists and appliance repairs. We could meet each other in the eye and function in the face of things to do. It was in the warm cocoon of blankets and bedspreads that hell froze over. It wasn’t meant to be that way. The bodies which were once supple with love and laughter became stiff with anxiety and fear as the court orders piled in, and in the years that followed through all the trials and with the great drain of money that we forgot what tenderness was. We were lost in the small space between us. The pathway that took my brother to prison was the same one that ruined my marriage.

» Posted By bb333 On 06.13.2016 @ 1:29 am


Ebony fooled herself into believing that things matter. She was caught up in the internal tornado of analysis. It matters that I failed my exams, it matters that my money is gone, that my brother lied to me about having cancer. It matters that he might or might not love me.

She tied herself to these piers as if they were the foundations of her life, as if trying to find a way to steady her fragile existence against what is to come. And what was that? The never-ending rise and fall of the ocean, the impenetrable flow of life. Thats what.

The truth is we are always beginning again, each day a new dawn. We are not what we were. We are where we are; our bodies eternally shedding our skin and replacing each of its cells in relentless renewal. Because we are supposed to shuffle off the past and just be who we are. Now.

» Posted By bb333 On 06.08.2016 @ 4:47 pm


Right there at the back of the bus was the most uncommonly beautiful girl Sundeep had ever seen. She was perhaps a little crooked in stature but the way in which her deep hazel green eyes stared out at the world beyond the window was enough to take his breath away.

» Posted By bb333 On 05.30.2016 @ 3:34 am



There was a lightbulb missing, so only the chance to eye himself in the reflection of a dimly lit bathroom. Back on the market. Shopping for love. Could there be anything worse? He didn’t fancy his chances. He was still handsome. Ish. He worked hard on his body and was still in good shape. He knew a trick or two in the bedroom which all stacked up well enough, but could there be any woman alive who could survive the hellish torment dished out by his venomous ex-wife?

» Posted By bb333 On 05.27.2016 @ 7:43 pm

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