The printer beeps with every button pushed and I know it’s the printer but that steady sound makes me feel like I’m in a hospital. No – I don’t feel like I’m in a hospital, I feel like I’m in hospital and now I’m trapped and bound by a memory, so severe it rips me…
We are a group of people drawn together through our inability to recognise when we are on fire. And after the fire has been put out, if we survive, we share an inability to recognise ourselves.
Professor Green bokehblur: A few weeks ago, my mother asked me why I like Professor Green. It’s a fair question, since I’m usually much more of a rock chick – I like Alkaline Trio, 30 Seconds to Mars, Slipknot, Muse, My Chemical Romance, Placebo, and countless others. So it was reasonable of her to ask…
I have nothing to write about. Everything is going right. I am alive. Nobody died today, not in my world. I haven’t been thinking about it, and if I’m not thinking about it, I’m generally not feeling tortured, so what is there to do? I cope with life’s mundane problems by repeating to myself “worse…
I’m not allowed to have regrets but if I could go back in time I would tell my 22 year old self that it’s okay to cry and to be scared. If I could go into the future I would tell my 30 year old self to go back in time and tell my 26…
It’s not enough for words to be true it’s not enough for words to evoke empathy – they have to poke and prod with their meaning, they have to scope out your hollows and fill them, first x-raying and identifying your sores (search and destroy) before deepening – yet at the same time, patching up…
They are not all wonderful years, but they are years, for sure, years that overrule minutes and days, years enhanced by whirls and swirls of colour induced by Jack and coke, a joke or two, puns and double entendres, lights residing alongside tunnels, stars and stripes and banners and my silly ideas, my far-flung dreams,…
I write a poem; type out my thoughts one-handed, a glass of bourbon in the other. Tap out the title at the top and declare the date and time of writing at the bottom. An old ritual. Open a new document. Write another. Add my time- stamp. I write a blog post. Later I decide…