Pythonism

writing about my life

The Worst Day

leave a comment »

In a gritty microsecond before conscious noticing happens between strangers in the street there is the “assessment-blink“. All needed knowledge about the other is gained in a brief moment. The crux point of whether to reject or accept is reached, the assessment of status completed and a decision is made.

Read the rest of this entry »

Advertisements

Written by Luke Dunn

December 15, 2018 at 10:09 am

Posted in Prose

Chaouen (poem)

with 2 comments

Milky sap of poppy or lung burn of kif
the homely contours of land in the Rif

Brief stink of rotting rubbish from a sewer
the cobbles, bulbous beneath my feet, fewer

the gutturals of Arabic are breathing
sweet mint tea and carpet shopping 
Read the rest of this entry »

Written by Luke Dunn

November 27, 2018 at 11:37 am

Posted in Poems

Silly #098

with one comment

A silly teddy boy wearing a bunny suit over a willy warmer drank a hot toddy from his billy can while listening to Ziggy Stardust. “It’s funny I’m not in such a hurry these days…” he mused. “Now I just shillyshally, God what a wally! What’s next for my tummy? Oh yeah, bully beef. I’d better give my workout some welly, though, or I might get a bigger belly, like my daddy…”

Written by Luke Dunn

November 21, 2018 at 1:49 pm

Posted in Humour

The Anti-Personic (Microfiction)

leave a comment »

The human sat in front of a screencloud on the vessel’s bridge, icons of the translation software overlaying a view through the boat cameras of his host’s lair. This was an important moment in communication for both visitor and the ones who received him. Before he initiated the formal greeting he took one sip of his whisky, savouring the esters, the sheer organic volatility of the golden drink. He’d had to have one to “steady his nerves”, as his father used to say. A memory from a world now separated by a relativistic caesura.

“All enlightened beings seek merger of the Personic Field with others. And so I join with you.” said the frog-like creature, its signalling detected by the chemical sensors and autotranslated onto the scientist’s equipment.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written by Luke Dunn

November 8, 2018 at 2:35 pm

Posted in Prose

Wordcloud

leave a comment »

I aim to get a real flow going with this writing. Once I wrote so much that it induced a kind of change of consciousness, as if there was a cloud of words fluttering about me, recombining and shifting. Maybe that is the mindset of a true writer! It started so powerfully but after a while I found I was getting overwhelmed. It hit a little bit of a panic stage so I shut it down. I just killed the thoughts I guess. Perhaps I shoudn’t have…

I am managing to order and organise a lot of things in my life. In honour of Gurdjieff perhaps who said “you must order what is disordered” as one of his pieces of advice to a niece. OK, so I have rejected most of his stuff after my latest “Skepticism Frenzy” but I think I’ll retain that maxim. It is quite a good description about what human life is about, especially a writer’s, again. The jumble of notes… disconnected experiences poured out onto the page in a random order. Then slowly tweaked and perfected into a finished result that is readable and speaks of the period of life where that maelstrom of raw experience was first felt.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written by Luke Dunn

November 8, 2018 at 11:47 am

Posted in Prose

The Invisible Prison

leave a comment »

I have been writing a journal for years. Often the thoughts are troubled and difficult. I wonder how I can use it as raw material for some kind of fiction.

Once, I thought all this stuff would work best as an internal monologue in the mind of a murderer. Taking a leaf out of Martin Lake’s book and writing horror. But something about that seems dangerous, I don’t think I will. Having actually been delusional, blurring the boundaries may not be good for my mental health.

Maybe it is just meant best as a diary, non-fiction. To mix real and unreal was what I did with Renfield (my first novel) and it disturbed you, Steve. But then autobiography is so often a writer’s main resource.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written by Luke Dunn

November 3, 2018 at 2:19 pm

Posted in Prose

Swaddling Cloth

leave a comment »

Part (i) – Damascus

That year a new kind of bird came to the grassland and woods around our village. Even Nanki the wise woman who lived on the edge near the stream said she had never seen one like these before.

These new visitors were silver and the way they moved, swooped… The way the silver wings flapped was different. Jerky but fast.

My sister had always been brave.. One day she came back for the evening meal looking excited. There was grass in her hair. She had some wild story that she had spoken with one of the new birds. Read the rest of this entry »

Written by Luke Dunn

August 29, 2018 at 7:52 pm

Posted in Prose