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BLOG NUMBER THIRTY-FIVE – WHEEZING THE JUICE… BUUUUUDDDD-DDYYY!...

Like Linkavitch “Link” Chomofosky, I have finally managed to thaw out and escape from a monolithic block of ice, inside of which I have been so cruelly confined for oh-so-long (and yes, whilst I am happy to see Brendan Fraser getting some well-deserved respect for his considerable acting chops, for me, his performance in the heart-warming Nineties Wayne’s World/Bill And Ted-esque comedy CALIFORNIA MAN ((or ENCINO MAN as it was more commonly known)) will always hold a special place in my heart ((those still in doubt of his abilities should also check out the little seen cult classic THE PASSION OF DARKLY NOON…and if you’re giving that a go, you’d be doing yourself a considerable favour if you also took some time out to watch director Philip Ridley’s other two excellent features, THE REFLECTING SKIN and HEARTLESS… ))) Any regular visitors to the site may have observed that there hasn’t been a great deal of activity on here for a while. The reasons for this are legion (and far too complex for me to go into any detail) but rest assured, I shall be updating my writing credits section as soon as possible with links to all the stories and work I have published over the past year, and that I fully intend to continue using this blog in the spirit it was originally intended, as an open notebook and outlet for all the weird little odds and sods that have nowhere else to go. To kick things off, here are some more short pieces from the pen of disgraced academic and hurdy-gurdy maestro, Den Ghostliven. I am printing these only because Ghostliven has promised that he will stop loitering at the bottom of my garden if I do so….



Diction Arouses Suspicion by Den Ghostliven.

My typewriter is lying. Spitting fiction, not truth. Sensing deception’s afoot, I need to see who else has been using it. The culprit leaves fingerprints: ill-written sentences, full of spelling errors.

There affair started they’re.

Their’s no way I’d make that mistake.

Wait. Damn. I know I’m not responsible.

I can proof it!



GAG REFLEX by Den Ghostliven.

Jokes. Constantly composed. Absurd thoughts, all unheard. Every tragedy (so many!) viewed through a laugh (darkly)

An aphid in avian broth killed him (such a bad choke….)

Like the cross roading chicken, it was time to see what was on the other side. Life’s final sucker-punchline?

There was nothing (BADOOM-TISH!)



And to round things off, here’s one of my own efforts…



LOVE’S A DRUG by Steven Holding.

Powder on glass. Rolled note. Another snort. Throat burning.

It doesn’t fill the gaps they’ve left.

Shoot it. Smoke it. Dip a digit, lick it. Bitter taste elicits a grimace.

Look at the upturned urn, realise no tears have been shed. Place a gritty fingerprint into both eyes.

And finally find yourself crying.



That’s all for now, but before I make like a banana and split, please don’t forget, none of us are ever as nice as we think we are… but if we all tried a little bit harder, maybe we could be…



END OF TRANSMISSION… OVER AND OUT…


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Found this disturbing message, scrawled upon a slightly soiled napkin, folded up and tucked into my front right breast pocket after leaving my jacket in a hospital locker. TOO MUCH INFORMATION… by Den

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