Someone wrote to me: Wasn’t that the night I saw you in the theatre, I was in the cheap seats so I don’t think you saw me wave And I thought that might be the most beautiful message I’ve ever received.
I dropped my phone into the loo. Beyond repair, all was lost. Three years of photos, texts and memories; the current latest message, pic and tune sent from an ex in anger on what I guess was one bad day. Not even drunk, since I'm not drinking because of issues with my heart, from stress... Continue Reading →
Distancing: Day 10
There is frost on the grass in the shade left behind by the night. But the sun that comes out is all warmth and delight. Climbing over the fence to my backgarden den, where I go for fresh air at the start of the day at the mid of the day and the end of... Continue Reading →
I lent my book and got a review. Not what I wanted back. I'm fasting now, away from all temptation. The reward, they say, is bigger than the vice. Bigger than the satisfaction of sugar, booze or cock. Instead I'll get the silence, peace and confidence to build myself a temple. I try... Continue Reading →
Will to power
Notes and poem on will, by Jessica Zarins, November 2019My writing will my will to write my freedom spilled by fear and fright. Get back into the saddle. I'm sorry if I've been a shit friend.
End of British Summertime II
There's frost on the punts this morning, the canoes are turned upside down. The cows are still grazing behind ancient knowledge stone. They don't know it's an hour later than this time a few days ago. The bridge across the Cam, that I didn't swim in, the kayak man nowhere to be seen, is slippery... Continue Reading →
End of British Summertime
The clocks go back but time moves forward The new day's lighter but later it's darker I live a frugal life, saving up for winter I am writing, I am, but job applications and pitching letters I read what you write too but don't have time to tell you Time is a bubble now of... Continue Reading →
Midsummer’s Day – Travelling through space
I wake up hungover and want to have sex. My bed is empty apart from myself. What will I do with today? The kitchen needs cleaning, the body needs exercise the book still needs writing. But nothing I do seems good enough to me. I fear what I might write after such a... Continue Reading →
Thursday 23 May 2019. Evening
What will proportionate representation bring? For me and for you, for mine and for yours. I've hopes and I've fears and I've only one vote, cast like the Ring into Mount Doom to melt into others and become something else to dissolve and lose shape and its power. For only in hand does it mean... Continue Reading →
True love is Tuesdays cutting toenails into the toilet bowl. True love is February when change is most wanted but least attainable. True love is seeing the beauty in the ugliest, in hanging in there and hanging out here. True love is four people in a small boat sailing into the unknown. ... Continue Reading →