Tag Archives: horny old men

The Sixth Blog

The basil sorbet had begun to melt, its death throes leaking from its body and creating around the edges of my plate, an outline; a crescent of green liquid. But in spite of its dashing colour and ability to perform acrobatics, the sorbet was disgusting, especially alongside the panna cotta. I was told before I had ordered it that a panna cotta was a pastry. It was actually some kind of crème jelly, and certainly by the contrast of the sorbet and keeping in mind the disappointment of a lack of pastry, was extremely delicious.

My companion was sat to my right, next to the window. He was an old man: his face contorted with wrinkles and education. The bright light from the window kept my companion in shadow- from my place, I could barely make out his blue eyes, dulled from years of piteous existence, masked by years of success and publication, or his white eyebrows, which charmingly matched his hair… or what was left of it. Often we would discuss the benefits of suicide, and the various regimes of the world, and the greatest of philosophies. Often I would sit, enthralled for hours by his strong views- views with which I would never quite agree, but would argue about earnestly. He was a lecturer from my University, someone who I had instantly loved from the moment he told us to punch polar bears as a means of combating the idea of environmentalism. He had retired as I entered my third year, but we had still kept in contact. We had one meeting in this same place a few months prior, and I had spoke about my dissertation and my grand plans for the future. Now, we had met in this same place to talk following graduation. We hadn’t ordered dessert during our previous meeting. It was he who had misinformed me about the pastry. He had also just asked me to have sex with him. Continue reading

The First Blog

And so it begins; the blog to begin all blogs. For today however there will be no story, or interesting fact, or morbidly fascinating account of how a 60 year old man proposistioned me in a hotel, over fish and chips. No. Today I declare the purpose of this aforementioned and currently particularly scarce blog as being an opportunity for me to merge the reality and inclination to exaggerate within my own head, here in pixel format. This should prove both extremely compelling, and needlessly boring. I apologise for this now, and shall likely do so again in the future.

And thus, the Insanity Aquarium is born: void of fish, but whose author overflows with the desperate need to unload all the various and over-emphasised tales of llamas and horny old men that simply would not be tolerated in normal society.

I sincerely hope that you enjoy.

Anna.