A Chat With Myself
August 8th 2007 12:24
EniDan kicks off Tahmoor Publications by interviewing herself... and snapping off a nipple.
I had no idea what it would be like. I figured it would be your average, run-of-the-mill interview. Little did I know how difficult I could be.
The interview was going to be conducted at EniDan's suburban home, so I made my way there by train on a very cold afternoon. Strangely enough, we end up meeting on the train.
I recognise her instantly- her long, brown hair with the remains of a dye job gone wrong still clearly visible; her hazel eyes, avoiding gazes and fixated downwards.
I siddle up to her and, with a nudge to her shoulder with mine, say 'G'day.'
Startled, she looks up with a look of confusion and fear.
'How are you doing?' I continue.
Her startled expression is still there. I think to myself- maybe she is one of those disabled people who are physically restricted but mentally capable. She sure looked it.
'...Who are you?'
Uh-oh. She has never seen me before. How I could not have known that, I have no idea.
Hurriedly, I introduce myself and apologise for scaring her. A look of relief washes over her face.
'Thank God! I thought you were one of those killer albinos that are always on A Current Affair,' she says.
'...you mean emos?'
'Yeah!'
Wow. This just keeps getting worse. The walk to her house from the station is only five minutes, but it seems much longer. I try to strike up a conversation, but her replies come in between heavy puffs of breathe.
'Asthma?' I ask.
Tension. I can taste it.
'No.' Just a little too stern to be considered a polite answer. I realise I should just stay quiet until we get to her house.
I have been asked not to mention details of the house, so I cannot tell you about the strange smells, stains on the wall and the whole in the roof; nor the uneasy silence.
'We'll have to finish the interview before my family get back. Once the kids are here, it will be impossible to hear each other.'
That's comforting.
Settled on opposite ends of the living room with a fizzless cup of Pepsi each, I ask the first question.
SO HOW DID TAHMOOR PUBLICATIONS START?
Firstly, it's "TaHmooRRR"- pronounce the 'h' and roll the 'r'. Sound like you're going to blow yourself up, taking me with you. In answer to your question though, I've always enjoyed writing. It's the only thing I see myself doing. There is a lot of stuff in the media that is just lies being passed off as the truth. So I wanted to do the opposite- pass the truth off as lies.
...right.
BUT WON'T THAT JUST CONFUSE PEOPLE?
You mean the same way the media confuses people into believing lies? Then yes.
WELL, TAHMOOR PUBLICATIONS IS STILL IN AN EARLY STAGE, SO CAN YOU GIVE EXAMPLES OF UPCOMING STORIES?
No. You can wait.
...at the point in time I wouldn't mind her family suddenly walking in so I can leave. Story or not- THIS IS TORTURE!
MAY I JUST ASK, BUT WHAT DOES "TAHMOOR" MEAN?
Look it up on a map!
...EniDan laughs. Quite scary, really.
WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR INSPIRATION FROM? IS THE CHASER AN IMPORTANT SOURCE OF INSPIRATION?
I don't think you completely understand what Tahmoor Publications is about! I mean, your first article is an interview with yourself! The Chaser are satirical- I am real! I tell the truth! I give people facts!
...silence.
'I want you out of my house!'
What!?
EniDan stands and points menacingly at the door.
'Get out!'
I apologise repeatedly, but to no avail.
The next thing I know, I'm being pushed harshly towards the door.
'Now hold on...' I try to reason.
'OUT!' A harder push.
I know it is against my journalistic integrity, but I was being physically manhandled- so I pushed back.
What happens next, I hear you ask.
Well, let's just say that I tried to see light of the situation and attempted to give EniDan a nipple cripple. In the heat of the moment I had completely forgotten it was the middle of winter and so her nipple went from being between my fingertips to rolling under the couch.
I don't remember much, but I do remember the screams of pain and my apologies.
An ambulance was called and EniDan is now in recovery after having a donor replace the original.
The missing nipple has not yet been found.
EniDan.
I had no idea what it would be like. I figured it would be your average, run-of-the-mill interview. Little did I know how difficult I could be.
The interview was going to be conducted at EniDan's suburban home, so I made my way there by train on a very cold afternoon. Strangely enough, we end up meeting on the train.
I recognise her instantly- her long, brown hair with the remains of a dye job gone wrong still clearly visible; her hazel eyes, avoiding gazes and fixated downwards.
Startled, she looks up with a look of confusion and fear.
'How are you doing?' I continue.
Her startled expression is still there. I think to myself- maybe she is one of those disabled people who are physically restricted but mentally capable. She sure looked it.
'...Who are you?'
Uh-oh. She has never seen me before. How I could not have known that, I have no idea.
Hurriedly, I introduce myself and apologise for scaring her. A look of relief washes over her face.
'Thank God! I thought you were one of those killer albinos that are always on A Current Affair,' she says.
'...you mean emos?'
'Yeah!'
Wow. This just keeps getting worse. The walk to her house from the station is only five minutes, but it seems much longer. I try to strike up a conversation, but her replies come in between heavy puffs of breathe.
'Asthma?' I ask.
Tension. I can taste it.
'No.' Just a little too stern to be considered a polite answer. I realise I should just stay quiet until we get to her house.
I have been asked not to mention details of the house, so I cannot tell you about the strange smells, stains on the wall and the whole in the roof; nor the uneasy silence.
That's comforting.
Settled on opposite ends of the living room with a fizzless cup of Pepsi each, I ask the first question.
SO HOW DID TAHMOOR PUBLICATIONS START?
Firstly, it's "TaHmooRRR"- pronounce the 'h' and roll the 'r'. Sound like you're going to blow yourself up, taking me with you. In answer to your question though, I've always enjoyed writing. It's the only thing I see myself doing. There is a lot of stuff in the media that is just lies being passed off as the truth. So I wanted to do the opposite- pass the truth off as lies.
...right.
BUT WON'T THAT JUST CONFUSE PEOPLE?
You mean the same way the media confuses people into believing lies? Then yes.
WELL, TAHMOOR PUBLICATIONS IS STILL IN AN EARLY STAGE, SO CAN YOU GIVE EXAMPLES OF UPCOMING STORIES?
No. You can wait.
...at the point in time I wouldn't mind her family suddenly walking in so I can leave. Story or not- THIS IS TORTURE!
MAY I JUST ASK, BUT WHAT DOES "TAHMOOR" MEAN?
Look it up on a map!
...EniDan laughs. Quite scary, really.
WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR INSPIRATION FROM? IS THE CHASER AN IMPORTANT SOURCE OF INSPIRATION?
I don't think you completely understand what Tahmoor Publications is about! I mean, your first article is an interview with yourself! The Chaser are satirical- I am real! I tell the truth! I give people facts!
...silence.
'I want you out of my house!'
What!?
EniDan stands and points menacingly at the door.
'Get out!'
I apologise repeatedly, but to no avail.
The next thing I know, I'm being pushed harshly towards the door.
'Now hold on...' I try to reason.
'OUT!' A harder push.
I know it is against my journalistic integrity, but I was being physically manhandled- so I pushed back.
What happens next, I hear you ask.
Well, let's just say that I tried to see light of the situation and attempted to give EniDan a nipple cripple. In the heat of the moment I had completely forgotten it was the middle of winter and so her nipple went from being between my fingertips to rolling under the couch.
I don't remember much, but I do remember the screams of pain and my apologies.
An ambulance was called and EniDan is now in recovery after having a donor replace the original.
The missing nipple has not yet been found.
EniDan.
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