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Great Writers Text Their Work


Looking across the street at the poor wretches at Risely Street Dome whilst we sup at C-15.  Not that there's anything wrong with Dome and their Chicken and Avocado toastie. But you get a better class of Bogan over this side of Risely. Over at Table 12 there's a nitwit wearing his cap inside at the table. He's also wearing a singlet to show off his massive gym-built arms. Faux tribal tattoo. Dude has two sets of shoulders. He's ignoring his girlfriend currently and texting or perhaps blogging like I am.

I imagine his blog is called Compassionate Fitness. He has just written the following: "Some dude in the corner who looks like the Comic Store Guy from The Simpsons, keeps looking over here and then typing on his phone. I don't think he's looking at Bec. If only he knew that beneath my awesome, ripped exterior was a poet looking for a word to finish a couplet about the beautiful soul that puppies possess. Also a word that rhymes with verisimilitude and contains the very same."

Fitness Dude looks up from his phone and notes how half the people in the cafe are either speaking with someone on their mobiles or tapping away on their smartphones or iPads.  "Why can't we just be with the one we are with? This is today's personal mantra. Gonna do 100 reps of the mantra in the next five minutes while I watch the way the sunlight cascades off Bec's amazing chestnut locks."

At least that's what I think Fitness Dude over at Table 12 is up to.

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