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Showing posts from July, 2016

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Picnic blankets and magic carpets

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A momentary lapse of blindness

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Beneath the padding, between the lines

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The safety pin in my ear

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My family and other mammals

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A special place in time and space

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Cyrus song

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Floating in my tin can

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Of Kids

16.06.14 (Day 176) 14.42 A Loveliness is the collective noun for ladybirds. I knew this anyway but it was the subject of a question just now on The Round Britain Quiz on Radio 4 earlier. Collective nouns are most commonly associated with birds; the best-known of which being a gaggle (of geese) and a murder (of crows). With avian species, the nouns differ from those collected on the ground and in flight. Collective nouns also apply to fauna which is ground-dwelling by nature: a pride of lions being the best known example. My favourite and most endearing being giraffes: a tower. Is there a collective noun for kids? An annoyance? A coronary? I'm playing host to a few of the regulars and to avoid the annoyance or coronary, I've retired. To my room, which is out-of bounds to them all but they come in anyway: kids! That's the way it is; that's the way they are. 18.42 I didn't make my latest induction with CRI because our home was at risk and so was I, as I saw my one-time...

Of Nine

20.06.14 (Day 180) 08.42 Non: of nine. E.g. Nonagon: a nine-sided shape Nonillion: 9 to the power of 54 Persona non grata: me, to many Thrown out onto the road because I was ill and offered very little help. Intelligent, resourceful and having acquired many skills and much knowledge to stay alive out here, where many wouldn't; some of the many being those who think things should have been sorted out by now but who've never had to go against the system. Nine lives out here, most of which I've lived: Bottled Throttled Molten wax thrown in the face Robbed Raped (really) Beaten Attempted suicide Attempted suicide (Yes: twice) Not much left is there? Overnight stays in hospital beds and police cells: eight so far. Number of times that a ghost from my past has run back to me then left again, breaking my heart on each occasion: eight. But I fought back every time. Always with resolve; occasionally the old-fashioned way (with fists). These lives have hardened me and...

A whore and a slave to the pimp

THE WRITER'S LIFE I am an unholy trinity of pimp, whore and slave; to myself. People who owe me money have defaulted on their debts, but that's just an aside. It's like when a customer didn't pay an invoice when I ran a business. In fact, it was a good way to pay people to no longer exist. But that's another story. Lately I've had to adopt a much more business-like approach to writing, because of what it's become for me (my life) and because I need to keep the various aspects of it separated. When your job is your life and you've been a slave to both in the past, that's difficult. It's the way I live: This studio is not much more than a glorified office, albeit one with a leather sofa, a sound system and a TV; and a huge collection of CDs and DVDs. Like most offices, the toilet is off-suite and there's nowhere to sleep, so I bed down on the floor. It's a studio. I was keen to find some sort of work / life balance but that's difficult ...

A long time ago...

2017 75
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2014 294
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