Poem. Still. Katie Lewington.

thinking desperate thoughts
laying in front of the TV
face so close my nose brushes the screen
there is so much crap on
looking at the covers of books
opening them, reading the dates
it was written and the many times
it has been reprinted
reading the name of dedication
reading the how I did it towards the end
there isn’t any fat to burn
I haven’t eaten
all is quiet
nobody is complaining
perhaps now used to it
my body,  it obeys once trained
sniffing the sleeve of an unwashed jumper
huddled in its stomach,  like I am in a bus shelter
waiting
something will come along
to take me from a to d, then to z
because not many bother going that far
but I will
feel a pinching on my skin
I slap it, in case it’s a flea
It could be
although the cat has died
fleas should have gone with it
stank out the room
front door opens,  let’s in a blast of cold air
and the smell of wasting meat
I sniff,  the smell is taken
the door is closed
the person coming in, I raise my head
‘You going to be there for your own wake as well?’ the person asked me
a crinkling across the floor, could be a spider
I sit up, my head going dizzy and waving
the person sits on the sofa, it heaves
knees come to my back, I lean on them
playfully pushing them in
the person gives a kick
with the trainer’s they had on,  that hurt
‘You want these or don’t you?’ A bag was rustled, revealing the frame of white that is dinner – fish and chips, dazed in salt
I slightly shake my head
‘Your parents should have called you apathy’ the person said ‘you have a bad case of it’
‘That bad?’ I ask
‘It doesn’t do you any good.  Look what happened to Kurt Cobain’ the person answered.
‘OK’ I nod ‘let’s go for a walk’
‘You want walking now? It’s late at night. It’s been a long day for me’
‘You haven’t taken off your shoes’ I point out, flicking the laces and looping them around my fingers. They crumpled. I cast away the threads , kneeling at the feet, climbing up onto the knees, perched comfortably, I lick my lips, playing with the chords on the persons trousers.  He was hard. I shuffle forward.
‘Hello’ I said. 
‘Hi ’ was the reply.
‘Oh, hi’ I giggle.
‘You want something?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, stop scoffing those chips and give us a kiss’  I said, stealing some of the batter.

K.L 2016  ©

Book Review. Alien Love Story. AK.Dawson. 

​Alien Love Story has a simple first line ‘someone shoved a pencil into Dan’s left nostril’ which made me chuckle.

What I do like of the opening chapter is the delicate way the reader is introduced to Dan and learn more of his story. It is a captivating narrative. It becomes not only humorous but emotional too, as we discover the reason to why Dan is living with his nana. 

Dan is a selfless teenager, endearing in the line ‘there are some things worse than losing your parents and he imagined losing a child was right up there’

His perception of life is special and so are the one-liners. When debating whether to address the girl of his dreams with a ‘hello’ or ‘yo’ he dismisses ‘yo’ because it is a slang term for rappers and ‘the closest he got to the streets was when he fell off his skateboard’

Dan meets a girl, well, he sees somebody rooting through the rubbish bin of a cafe and this sighting cures his headaches, which haunt him. Suddenly he is obsessed with this hoodie and beanie hat wearing girl. Who is she?

The first conversation between Dan and the girl, who introduces herself as Alexander, is sweet. It does remind you of how it is to be fifteen and in, supposed, love. Dan is remarkably innocent. Not that he is different from many teenage boys with his attempts to get a kiss from Alexander and expects the poor girl to instantly be intimate with him. 

Although increasingly obvious to the reader Alexander is an alien, as well as the novel title giving us a clue, when Alexander is without her beanie hat and it is revealed to Dan she has no ears, Dan, regardless, tells her she is beautiful.

Alien Love Story does become surreal. The pace ricochets to its finish, with events taking place left, right and centre. I was enthralled by the story. 

It is, by no means, perfect. I think the characters of Tony, Nana and Doctor Conlon are woefully under written and I cannot quite get my head around Dan being only fifteen and yet can absolutely say without doubt Alexander is the one for him (although I am a romantic and am willing to believe it) This does almost become a twenty first century Romeo and Juliet.

If you leave your cynicism at the end of your bed and curl up with Alien Love Story I think, and maybe you will too, that this is an excellent novel and I am glad there will be a sequel because I want a happier ending than the one Andrew Dawson gave me. 

Purchase your copy at Amazon 

Bio:

AK Dawson, aka Andrew, was born in South Africa, spent twelve years in the UK and now lives in Warsaw, Poland. Last year his feature film won ‘Best Screenplay’ at the Sydney Indie Film Festival. When he’s not working on scripts, he writes prose and was given a Northern Promise Award at the 2010 Northern Writers’ Awards.