#impostersyndrome Proser


Maybe I will write a novel. I've started one called 'The Backs.' Here is a bit out of it because my blog writing style is turgid and I, myself, am dying of boredom at the content of this post already.




from The Backs


There’s this lad across the backs and I think he’s watching me. His window was on the next spoke, higher up than ours. There’s these flashes of light. I fink he’s got binoculars or summat to see me really good. Sometimes Lola read her book, full sat up to the window and left it propped, for when she wasn’t in the bedroom, so he could see what she was reading. Sometimes she sat on the floor in the corner in front of a mirror propped against the wall. She drew her bony little self in her pink cotton knickers and triangle bra. This is arty, right. Not dirty or anything. There’s loads of nudies in art because the human body is gorgeous. You’d be like a sexy Botticelli or summat, if you was in art. The angle of sight, from his window to hers, meant he probably couldn’t see her. Or maybe he could. I sat on Lola’s Ma’s bottom bunk out of the way. Plastic stars white-tacked to the ceiling.

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Me. Cherry. Lola’s best mate. I’m short, fat, bored and boring.

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Friday night Ma, pink and a bit sweaty, from making herself fricking gorgeous. Hair rolled and stacked like fairytale mattresses. Her full entire eye sockets dusty with a pot of ethereal fushia drifting up into her hairline. Her nuclear horizon look. She’d made loads from it. Well, enough to pay for two rooms in a flat in the slum spokes. Which is more than my Dad had done. Lola helped her give all the looks names.

Eryk’s not coming again is he? Lola was practising her bored face/bored voice so you couldn’t tell how bothered she was. Nah, I got some free credits for the Eroti-hub. Might as well use them. Ma was always trying to pull a security guard or an Uncle who could make stuff. What stuff? Stuff that is strictly legal, obviously.

The music was right up. She didn’t give a screw. They must pay teachers shocking coz he can’t afford a cart to come over here. I thought it was good job. Spontaneous eye roll. He teaches us, Ma.


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