General Fiction

The Weather that Lives With Us by Marvin Garbeh Davis

By the time the rain arrived in earnest, the house already knew where it would fail.

The first leak appeared near the window. One drop fell with stubborn consistency, as if the roof had chosen that spot long before the clouds gathered. At first, it was easy to ignore. Rain always starts politely in Liberia, tapping the zinc roof the way a visitor taps a door—soft, respectful, almost apologetic. You tell yourself it will pass. You tell yourself the house has survived worse.

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Week 141 – Fashion, Bulimia And Elvis Is Dead.

Post 141 is upon us. It is here and now and hip and happening!!

The last time I was hip and happening was, well, never!

This may be a weird mix of ideas this week.

For some reason I was thinking of fashion and how fucked up that is. It’s an industry within an industry which has evolved incestuously. Most of the pipe-cleaners who model look as if they need a bloody good feed.

I used the line that I was bulimic but I just kept forgetting to be sick on many occasions. I think a lot of the models are anorexic and they keep forgetting to eat. They must be on some sort of dust diet.

The only reason that I thought of this was when I put on my new Bakers Whites for the first time and I realised that due to my stature I looked like an avalanche. The only good thing about this is that a big hairy dug keeps bringing me brandy. For some reason they are all called Bernard.

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