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Showing posts from April, 2019

Faux Murakami: A Creative Writing Exercise.

A Sheep Chaise Lounge It is raining when a sheep trips and falls over and says: oh dear, it's curtains for me until someone walks by and offers a free shave. Nearby some guy is cooking spaghetti because even through the rain, the sheep can smell pasta boiling and cheap cigarettes. This reminds the sheep, as he lies there languidly, as if on a chaise lounge, of what it imagines to be the inside of various aquariums, full of strange smells of fish and sticky children and desiccated whale penises in glass displays. Soon the sheep is dreaming of a nameless female lamb with inexplicably well-developed mamaries for an ovine. He took her to a nameless pond once where they drank and watched the frogs, and thinking about this made the sheep feel woolless. -- Not Murakami Haruki.