hamhock Originally uploaded by Gurdeep Mattu. This still makes me laugh! I don’t think it will ever get old. Thank you Emma Paterson, wherever you are.
It’s not like there isn’t plenty to do; there is plenty to do. Making lists is as much as pleasure as a chore. But it is the gaps in between, and it always has been. Clean and clinical, synaptic, the urge and the pulse — beyond all that you can taste, and touch, and putContinue reading “Tasks”
I see a Syrian Hamster at Pets At Home, my bike lock rusting so that I get iron oxide water on my grey jeans. They like to live alone, they are happy with small cages for living in. This little thing shivering in the corner of a glass menagerie. My kind of pet. I bounceContinue reading “Ace Of Hearts”
The leaves are falling from the trees again, I want to tell you. And I realise I can’t. It’s the first time I’ve taken proper notice. To assuage the patterns, to feel that the breath is in, and the breath is out. From the snow and the sleet in my Adidas Lantos, jogging around aContinue reading “Fall”
Picture if you will a life without regret. Maybe it would be a life approaching freedom? Exit velocity is the speed needed to break free of the Earth’s gravitational pull. Beyond that, it is a journey into the vacuum of outer space. The blue tint of of a fragile planet the only visual sign thatContinue reading “Refer to Manual”
I shouldn’t have played FIFA online and been whipped by someone born in 1993. I should have carried on reading Julian Barnes. That’s what I should have done. And I shouldn’t have looked in the chest of drawers. Memories live in those places. Memories and FIFA defeat and and utter soulsickness and a bad backContinue reading “My night and the decisions I made”
Listening to the way the words on the page sound in my head as I read them to myself, I hear the cadences and dramatic pauses. I laugh out loud at a story set in Russia in the 1880s and then translated into American English and bought by me in a bookshop in a PublicContinue reading “Chekov”
Bin day in East Ham in High Summer — a cruel assault on the nostrils. Some smells near the industrial bins behind the Chinese — beyond comprehension. Smells that are so bad, so ripe, they are almost sensual.
I’ve been to at least two London gigs where favourite bands of mine have been playing and people have expressed their displeasure that I’ve been moving, as in dancing, next to them. One of them was the Junior Boys. I now no longer go to gigs in London because most people are miserable smug cuntsContinue reading “Gigs”