Seeds - Jow Bates

"Calm the fuck down you obnoxious little prick."

The office whirred obtrusively. The electrical hum of outdated hardware and inundated hardwiring making its own constant backbeat. Cubical walls bore up from the ground to reduce eye contact and increase productivity, the muffled sound of a radio whispering just the other side of audible, intense artificial lighting, clichés. Extreme sensory deprivation and policed isolation, psychological assault, white torture, Patrick.
"Back to the grind, hey guys?" He chirped in objectionable autonomy. The crescendo of Windows XP starting up filled the air with orchestral guise, a .WAV starter's pistol for another day of drudgery and self-loathing. Patrick bounced assertively between desks, asking customary questions about peoples weekends, the project managers training in visibly literal application to his routine. It's all routine, when does the actual living start?
"Good weekend, John?" Beamed the halogen smile of Patrick's artificial integrity. This was getting to me now, I could see why people turn a blind eye to this level of lifelessness, but still; "Why?"
"Why?" I enquired.
"'Why'?" Patrick repeated.
"Why." I stated, no rising inflection, the word no longer a question.
"Uh-oh, I think John's carrying some of the weekend with him!" Patrick announced to the office. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
"What the fuck was that supposed to mean?"
"Steady on John."
"Fuck off Patrick, you self-replicated, 'team player'-cunt."


...


The pause lasted for some time.

The white noise of the office computers stopped.
The air-conditioning stopped.
The photocopier stopped.
The office stopped.

Then noise, actual noise, cubical walls fell back, conversation became meaningful, honest, heated even. People looked at each other, there was mood. Even Patrick managed to say something that wasn't advised by team/micro management course. Life happened.


John cleared his desk.

Seeds - Dogmatix

Friend, please don’t hurry
Mighty oaks and great ideas
Began life as seeds.

Seeds - Fargo

GEORGE SITS ALONE, AT THE END OF A VERY LARGE GARDEN OVERLOOKING THE OCEAN.

HE FEELS A BREEZE FROM BEHIND HIM. HE TURNS AROUND, BUT HE CANNOT SEE ANYTHING, WHEN HE TURN AGAIN TO STARE AT THE BEAUTIFUL BLUE OCEAN A MAN COMES AS IF FROM NOWHERE AND IS NOW SITTING OPPOSITE GEORGE DRESSED IN A RED SUIT. SMILING.

George
Who the hell are you?

Man
That’s not important, whats important is, who the hell are you?

George
What?

Man
Why have you been sitting here day in day out alone and depressed?

George
Who says I’m depressed, and whats it to you, this is my garden I can sit here for as long as I please/

Man
Its important to me, because I know your thoughts.

George
What? Jesus!

Man
It unwise at this time to take his name in vein. Take it back immediately!

George
What on earth are you talking about?

Man
Take it back!!!!

George
Alright I take it back. Now can you explain why you have turned up in my garden, and how you think you know my thoughts!

Man
I know your thoughts!

George
I know you know you have just told me.

Man
Ah then you admit it, I know your thoughts.

George
Yes, no I mean what? Hang on you said….

Man
Its not important what I said, its important what I know, and what I know I find disturbing. Right now your drowning!

George
No, I think you’ll find I’m sitting at my table in my garden opposite a strange man in a red suit. Now that’s disturbing.

Man
You fool, about 10 minutes ago you jumped over that fence there and into the sea, and as you have never been able to swim, its safe to say your drowning.

George
What on earth?

Man
I’m here to see if your worthy of death.

George
How can I be drowning when I’m sitting here.

Man
(Looking pleased with himself) Now that George is down to me, I’m here to see why you did it and to see if you still want death.

George
Say I slipped?

Man
You did slip you jumped. Remember I know your thoughts.

George
If you know my thoughts you know why I jumped

Man
So you did jump then?

George
I suppose I did.

IT STARTS TO RAIN.

Man
I fancy a coffee.

George
Follow me.

GEORGE TAKE THE MAN TO HIS HOUSE AND MAKES HIM A COFFEE.

George
There you go, so you’re here to stop from being dead.


Man
Well your not actually dead, your in the process I’m here to see if its what you really want.

George
Are you DEATH himself?

Man
Don’t be absurd, DEATH is my boss, he sends me off to do this, frankly I’m thinking of packing it in!

George
Whys that?

Man
Been doing it for thousands of years, the moneys not what it used to be, and frankly, I’m fed up of the whining.

George
What you mean?

Man
Well I’m assigned to suicides and to hear the same old shit gets on my nerves so much I wanna kill myself, but I cant cos I’m dead already and that makes me want to die twice as much. A vicious circle.

George
Sounds like it.

Man
Yeah well, that’s how things go, I have a friend who works for Satan, and he gets 6 weeks off a year, but I flunked the last interview. Anyways enough about me I have a busy day I haven’t long to get you ready.

George
Whats the rush?

Man
Tsunami later that’s a busy one.

George
I thought you only did suicides!

Man
Overtime! I need the money. Right on to you again, what the hell are you playing at whats so bad about your life?

George
I’m fed up. I'm lonely, I have no friends…..

Man
Wo wo wo, let me stop you right there, look at this house we are in, its beautiful, your garden overlooks the ocean. You have made millions!


George
Yeah and I’m still not happy, what does that say about me.

Man
You’re an idiot.

George
Your not good at your job are you!

Man
Pipe down, listen, look around you photos of family, your parents, your nieces and nephews. You have friends you just don’t appreciate them.

George
I don’t?

Man
No, your too self involved, you have to get yourself out more, you are not worth dying yet, your too important.

George
I cant see how.

Man
Listen I don’t have all day, I don’t have the time to explain, but in the end its your choice, I can leave you drowning in the sea or, I can make so you never jumped at all. You have 5 Minutes to make the choice.

George
What, that’s not long!

Man
I think you know already! But 5 minutes to make sure.

George
Why 5 minutes?

Man
I need a shit! (Pause) Better make it 10!

15 MINUTES LATER

Man
Sorry I took longer then I expected, big lunch!!

George
I don’t want to die, I don’t know what I was thinking, it was a spur of the moment thing please save me, please!!

Man
You have two choices, In my hands are two seeds, seed number one, you drown and you die, seed two you go back to sitting at the table at the end of your garden forgetting everything, but believing you can be happy and make the change. Whats it to be?

HE HOLDS OUT HIS HAND IN ONE HAND IS SEED NUMBER ONE, IN THE OTHER IS SEED NUMBER TWO. GEORGE GRABS SEED NUMBER TWO

DARKNESS

GEORGE IS SITTING AT THE END IF HIS GARDEN LOOKING OUT TO THE OCEAN.
HE FEELS A BREEZE BEHIND HIM, HE TURNS AND SEES NOTHING, HE LOOKS BACK AT THE OCEAN, HE FEELS HAPPY.

Seeds - Philip Charles

“Sensory alliance then impersonations of the foreign kind sir? What have you become? To which we hold dear we must keep close to one’s breath, as the gasp of freedom is long forgotten. You should know that by now”
It meant nothing to Gideon. He sat, alone and cold, in a dampened room lit by a flickering candle, sat upon a crooked chair lent against the wall. He closed his eyes once more to free himself of life for just one more moment, one golden moment of emptiness. All emotion had retreated, not lost with the winds of time but misplaced, the quest must continue.

Far and wide your thoughts may wander,
Beyond hopes.
Distant memories of the orchard,
Unity beyond measure was a philosophy once spoken,
Never the soul will ride alone.

Rising to his feet he strolled to the open door and stepped, rather uneasily, into a corridor that he recognised. He had been here before. He shuffled to the right and began making his way towards a large wooden door which opened before him. As it opened light flew in with majestic grace in all directions, and he bound for it instantly. Rubbing his eyes he emerged into an empty courtyard and fell to his knees, then onto his chest. His gaze held by what was before him.

Thank you seed for all you’ve done.
All the laughter all the fun.

Seeds - Beau

Balamb Garden - Such a marvelous school
Triple Triad's the hobby, weapons your tools
But when you leave, you get damage at every turn
Sure, there're monsters, but quickly you'll learn

That junctioning "Ultima" to 'Strength' would be your best bet
Unless you want to be dependent upon useless GF's
I hit for 9,999 with my sword early on, so listen to me
If you guys want to be the most dope elite SeeDs

(FF8)

Seeds - David Ralph

Silly Simon went up a big hill and planted some seeds. These were not any ordinary seeds, no. They were radioactive proactive and ready to go go go. So the silly plant grew immediately, shooting through the depths of the soil the plant blasted out of the ground. As it was rising it formed machine gun arms and burst into a green glow. Silly Simon scratched his head and said: "Well that was a bit silly I won''t be planting those seeds any time soon !".

Seeds - Butters

And it was said,
That a steed would take her seed.

“Straight from the hip,
He cut to the chase,
Said I will tell the mother-fucking,
Slut to her face.”

He took her to the fields,
Where the old men would go.

Full of the best surprises,
He knew just what to do,
Mayonnaise was best,
Now it’s just me and you.

Seeds - Scott French

You're bare seeds bruv.

Fin.

Coffee Cup - Pumpkin Sheepshanks

The caffeine took hold of its host once more. Aided with three sugars and a dollop of semi skimmed cow juice the aroma of the instant coffee was none existent through the powdered up nostrils of its creator. the earthy hue span from the stirring with the spoon and splashed about in sync with the cup holders wobble, before burning the throat on its descent. once inside it embarked on a series of chemical reactions that would culminate in its expulsion through the urethra. coffee is a living organism created in the womb of a coffee cup, the stains inside and outside the cup the after birth. Never abort coffee, an empty coffee cup is like a mother who has had her children taken into care.

Coffee Cup - Jow Bates

11:43

As sleep's thick blanket faded back into the familiar duvet that subsumed Joe's drowsy being, a bleary distinction returned to room. Dull light from Sunday's noon worked its way past the thick curtains at the end of the room and had begun to crawl ever closer towards Joe's bed.
"Sunday." He muttered to himself, before placing a hand on the wall to lever himself upright. Still under the anaesthetic of semi-consciousness Joe drudged across the room to his Mac, he wiggled the mouse a few times and the computer gleamed to life with far more efficiency than he could ever muster.  

Reggae Sunday

The house shook with The Mighty Diamonds "Pray Unto Thee" and life began to germinate. Joe stumbled purposefully down the bare wooden stairs of his home toward the kitchen. Bypassing a forlorn looking pile of washing up, Joe flicked on the kettle and the room churned with animation. He heaped a tablespoon of instant coffee into a Strongbow pint glass as the water boiled climactically across from him.

Joe bogelled back upstairs with his pint of coffee and sat down at his Apple Mac computer. He yawned and brushed the sleep from his eyes, sipped his coffee and skipped ahead to the forthcoming Eek-a-mouse album.
"Early, early Sunday morning it was a big ganja smuggling!" He wailed, reaching for his wooden cigar box. He ripped up a couple of Rizla papers wrapped them artistically round a palmful of green, before sliding open his coequally lethargic window.
Joe gazed across the damp Guildford terraces and sipped his coffee, pausing to expel a cloud of incense into the London fog.

I've been here before and will come again, 

but I'm not going this trip through.

Coffee Cup - D'oh

I like my coffee like I like my men (I don’t even like coffee).

Perhaps it’s just the instant credibility that is received amongst work colleges when it comes to ordering a skinny latte with two Splenda's and using one of those reusable, environmentally friendly coffee cups that seems to say “hey! – I’m smart and sophisticated and I care about things”, all the while, realizing that the ground coffee beans in the cup were harvested from a fragile unsustainable rainforest ecosystem, on the verge of collapse, where the workers; underage, overworked and underpaid are whipped into submission, along with other torturous and carnal methods of motivation.

Sometimes I think; if only they realized… if only they realized that the rest of the world was in an even greater state of disrepair, it might give’m a little perspective.

I mean, had they realized that my Starbucks had run out of Splenda for my skinny latte, they mightn't be so difficult.

Coffee Cup - Dogmatix

Stephen didn’t do coffee. Stephen had never done coffee. Stephen did tea and occasionally hot chocolate, but Stephen did not do coffee. Alan knew Stephen didn’t do coffee. Alan knew Stephen had never done Coffee. Alan knew Stephen did tea and occasionally hot chocolate, but Alan knew Stephen did not do coffee.
It was for this very reason that Alan bought Stephen a coffee cup. Nothing extravagant just a simple white ceramic mug with Stephen’s Coffee Cup printed in comic sans around the circumference.

Now you or I may think this a trivial gesture with perhaps a few interpretations for meaning, but Stephen knew why Alan had bought him a coffee cup. Perhaps more importantly Alan knew that Stephen knew why Alan had bought him a coffee cup, and Alan had known prior to the purchase that Stephen would know why he had been bought a coffee cup... but that was the point.

Stephen didn’t do coffee, so Stephen could not use the coffee cup. Stephen did tea and
occasionally hot chocolate, and had the mug been printed with the words Stephen’s Tea
and Occasional Hot Chocolate Cup around the circumference there would not have been a problem, unfortunately for Stephen those words were not printed around the circumference, and Stephen was left the owner of a redundant cup.

Again, you or I may think this a trivial issue, and perhaps you would consider pointing out to Stephen, that regardless of the words printed clearly in Comic Sans around the circumference, that in no other way did this cup differ from the other cups & mugs Stephen would use to drink tea and occasionally hot chocolate.
Should you point this out to Stephen, then Stephen would tell you he knew us much, he would then explain to you, at great length, why it was not right to use a cup clearly labelled as a coffee cup for any other purpose. Perhaps after this explanation you would agree with him.

Stephen liked explaining. Stephen did not like Alan.

Alan didn’t do coffee. Alan used to do coffee, Alan did tea and occasionally hot chocolate, but Alan did not do coffee.

Alan liked Coffee. Alan did not like Stephen.

Coffee Cup
 

Beep-beep Eight Thirty 

Kettle, Milk, Late for the bus 

Good bye coffee cup

Coffee Cup - CammyWhite

Henry woke up, and, for a second at least, was totally confused he seemed to be laying under some kind of strange white, china dome and was surrounded by the same herby smell that filled the kitchen when his Nan and Mum would sit for hours drinking tea and gossiping about, well whatever it was they gossiped about. Then it all came rushing back, he’d taken shelter under the coffee cup with a tea bag pillow in order to actually get some rest for his very important mission. But before we go into that it may be helpful to back track a little bit.

See Henry was not your average 14 year old boy and all of this started when he was just 5 years old, when his mum had left his Dad and moved them both out to the country, to his Nan’s house. Well on his second day in the house he’d been out exploring the huge and over grown garden and had been convinced he’d seen a fairy, or a pixie, or possibly a nymph of some description. Yes don’t worry, Henry knows how crazy this sounds, which is why as he got older he stopped talking about it, but he knew he’d seen it and had spent years looking to find it again. He had written lots of diaries on the subject, recording all his observations as he knew that when he found the fairy he could prove that it was real and would become rich and famous in the scientific world. Or at least that’s what he thought until last night. Last night, after many close calls, he had finally found the fairy again, only it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. He’d imagined for years sneaking up on the fairy, or maybe spotting it from far away and calling to it, or attracting it with some kind of food or prize but, well, Henry is fairly clumsy, so after spotting a strange rustling in the undergrowth he proceeded to, rather than sneak up and investigate, fall head first over a some kind of root landing straight at the feet of a very small, but very angry looking little creature.

Now he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting but this certainly wasn’t it! It couldn’t have been more than 4 inches tall, human-ish in shape but leafy and thorny, and it’s skin resembled bark. And to say it was annoyed would have been an understatement! It wanted to know why Henry had been following it, taking photos of it’s trees and setting strange traps around the place, yet at the same time it seemed amused, laughing at strange intervals and appearing to talk to others that Henry couldn’t see. Now in his shocked state he’d tried to have a reasonable discussion with the creature but one thing led to another, there was some shouting, much of it from Henry and well, the creature had shrunk him and this just wasn’t going to do!

So here we are, Henry, kitted with some miniature weapons he’d once fashioned to give to the creature, was now going to try to find it, save his mouse (oh yes, I didn’t tell you about the mouse did I? Well there’s a mouse) and then convince it to change him back to his normal human size. Well let’s just hope he has a plan!

Coffee Cup - Butters

This was exactly what she needed.

She sat cross-legged, up against the side of the booth near the window, so she could watch the world go by. She often came here. Nobody quite understood why she was always on her own, sinking into her seat, writing in her book. Perhaps she just wanted to forget everything?

I’ve worked here five years.

She’s been coming in way before I even started. Everybody knows her name. Daisy. Wednesdays and Fridays without fail, she’ll be sat there. Nobody ever quite knows what she’s waiting for, but her mind just seems to sit and drift. I’d contemplated sparking up more of a conversation once, but she always seemed too deep in thought. I always trip over my words, too. I often wondered how much thought you can harbor at twenty three. She intrigued me. Her long, dark tousled hair always looked perfect, with the deepest of mocha eyes to match. She never needed much make up either, she always looked perfect. I wish I could tell her just that.

***

“Flat white pleeease, Sean!”

No cake today. I need to stop eating cake, it’s making me fat.
Sean is such a sweetheart. He always puts a heart on the top of my coffee, bless him. He’s gorgeous, too. He has the whole dark and mysterious look going on, with just the right amount of stubble. The kind that screams rough and rugged. He must have been here about five years now. He seems more shy than he looks. Always tripping over his words. Then again, I always look preoccupied. I’m not, I just think too much. I need to stop coming in here so much. Granted, I used to come in before Sean worked here. But not this often. I’m not sure he knows that. He must think I’m just one of those crazy regulars, always on my own. I wonder what he’d make of it if he did? Probably nothing. But I can dream.

***

She loves writing dark fiction.

She’d never show me any of her work though, her view is that it’s “never finished”. I just wanted the chance to talk to her about something we have in common. She doesn’t know that, though. I always fall before I have the chance. Dark graphic novels are my thing. We’d be great. “There you go, Daisy!” I always sound awkward in my own head. I wonder if she thinks I’m awkward? Maybe I should just go for it.

***

Maybe I should just ask him. The way he looks at me suggests he’d say yes. But.

“Hey, Sean!?” he turns, a smile spread across his face. “Do you wanna like, hang out sometime?” That sounded retarded.

“Absolutely... I was just about to ask you the same thing.” he couldn’t shift the childish smile from his face.
She went for it.

Maybe it would be more than just a heart in a coffee cup.

Coffee Cup - David Ralph

Coffee mmmmm......... Coffee!! Well it would be if it wasn't tea sitting in my bloody cup ! I'm never going to work! Damn coffee-heads with their espresso's!

Coffee Cup - John Browski

I'm on my second cup of coffee today, and I just moved into my missus's house. We've had two loads of kids round today already, despite it being "dad week", and we're watching The Wire.
Coffee is keeping me going today, as I'm KNACKERED. Just moved. Think I said that a minute ago. Can't remember. That's why I need coffee.
The kids need DS's, power leads and to drop off clothes to here rather than at Dad's. So me and the missus are in bed, drinking coffee, and the girls keep popping over.
It's lovely in a lot of ways, as they obviously feel comfortable here and want to come over, although it's stopping us watch The Wire.
I write this as they are here. There's some kind of thing going on with points for a DS, which completely baffles me, although Loz is explaining it as I type.

Just to paint a picture, the bedroom bedside light is on, we're still in bed, and the girls are wandering / bouncing around the house. The DVD is on pause and Susie is dishing out blackberry soothers as the girls are ill. Well, they have colds.
The dog is fawning over Loz, and now everything has gone quiet. Just another Sunday morning. However, I still have my coffee. :)

Coffee Cup - Beau

There he sat, mug in hand, looking guilty. Theresa entered the room in a stern demeanor, saw him, and said "George, you fucking fuck-wit; I have half a mind to dismantle your entire body right now.". George turned his head nonchalantly and flicked her the bird.

Then a big scary monster jumped out from the closet and ate them both.

(YOU DIDN'T SEE THAT ONE COMING, DID YOU?)

Concrete Surf - D'oh

My stomach churned at the mention of my name.
“Please welcome on, Mark Blackwell!!” The announcer left the stage as the crowd erupted in a swell of unenthused applause which ended quite abruptly. I fumbled with the mic, clumsily adjusting the height on the stand. I could feel a room full of blank stares on me as they watched me fuck around with such a simple task.

“H-hi there…how are you?” My voice came out broken, disjointed. It was the nerves. I paused for a moment for some kind of response from the audience, but got nothing. In my mind, I could hear the soundtrack of crickets playing back, loudly.

“My name is Mark Blackwell, this is one of my first gigs on the tour, so forgive me if I fuck-up epically… Oh shit. Can I say “fuck” on this tour?” I look over to the tour manager “Is that allowed? I think I just Fucked Up epically” The crowd chuckled, and it seemed to lighten the mood quite drastically.

“So I went surfing yesterday, yea, I got out there met some people, googled at some chicks in Bikinis…yea, you know what I’m talking about guys.” I coolly nodded “And then, all of a sudden, this window pops up telling me that I’m the 1 millionth visitor to bikinisandclevage.com… I was fucking stoked.” Laughter filled the room “Oh, sorry, did you actually think I left my house? Have you looked at me lately?” I drew up my sleeves, and pointed to my milky white complexion. “I’ve been working on this tan for a while now. I’m on a strict regime of basement fluorescents and computer UV. The reason why I’m so pale is that my skin’s very reactive to proper “real” sun. My body just freckles up like you wouldn’t believe. Actually, yesterday, I found this website for people like me, it has on it, and I swear to God this is true, this image of a sun. It’s great! I have it on during the day, pretend I’m outside” more laughter, I am a God.

“With skin like mine, you’d think I was a closeted ginger. I’m NOT by the way - a ginger…I’d rather be a closeted gay. I mean, NOT that there’s anything wrong with it. I know a lot of gingers who grow up and live very long productive lives in society.. Sure, most of the ones I know are scrapping gum out of our concrete pavements at night. They don’t work during the day…sunlight and all. They do try to avoid working during full moons, that’s when the moon is at it’s brightest you see and when they’re most susceptible to skin damage I suppose, but those people, those gingers are out there, risking it all so they can take part in our integral society…God bless’m” In the corner of my eye, the tour manager tapped on his watch, code for ‘wrap it up, times up’. It was a shame because it’d hardly felt like it had been 3 minutes. Sure, I probably wasted a whole minute adjusting the fucking microphone, but I had a lot more material to throw out there.

“Anyway, my name’s Mark Blackwell, and thanks for being such a great non-ginger audience, poice”.

Concrete Surf - Jow Bates

12:30 - The waves of business break for lunch

The noon tide began to swell at Starbucks, an unremitting sea of pastel shirts and vibrant, yet acceptable neckties flooded in. Jason sipped a small macchiato and blinked the Excel lines from his vision to survey the high-water mark of businessmen.  He listened to the off-shore winds of polite conversation and work-related banter, "I'm just like them." he thought. Working through lunch, treading water in the riptides of London's struggling economy, no amount of romanticising could keep him afloat for long in this climate. The waves of espresso and half-caf frappuccionos crashed over an undaunted coastline of lost souls. This was his life, his board now an ergonomics management keyboard, the smell of the sea lost between working lunches and dinner reservations.

Jason rubbed his eyes, how many more years? He was 40 in two months, what did he have to show for it? His BMW Camper traded in for a Hybrid, with 8 year warranty.
"Fucking 8 year warranty." He muttered to himself. The king tide was receding at Starbucks, the schools of businessmen swam back to their desks and the in-shore winds of 5 o'clock beckoned.
Jason opened his Hotmail;

We the wayward souls of sea,
Cast sail to wind and board to be,
As we catch Poseidon's breath,
Hold tight our boom on windward crest.

Send.

Concrete Surf - Fargo

"A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do."
- I’m not sure I agree with this, paedophiles and serial killers are not, in my book a success, well the ones who get caught are not!


"You don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows."
- It may be handy in a nightclub!

"Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted."
- Good news for people on the dole!

"If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace."
- Battle of Hastings ??

Concrete Surf
The End