So, it’s October. NaNoWriMo is on the horizon once again, and young women’s fancies turn to thoughts of character, setting, and (dare I say it) plot. This year, I’d like to write something set in Kent in the 1930s, give … Continue reading »New York Sour, Issue #1
Another 2a.m. She glares at the green glow of the clock as if it has insulted her personally. She has been in bed for three hours and feels like she has never been so exhausted as in this … Continue reading »PROSE: Sleepless
A documentary I watched last night on the Highway of Tears, British Columbia, had me thinking of a new story – and an old one that I’ve a mind to post here. Written for a friend and inspiration, after asking … Continue reading »PROSE: Nocturnal Acts
Mervyn Peake is a dark god in a bizarre world of whimsy and melancholy. Gormenghast speaks of freedom, passion, and living, yet it is an examination of madness, of horror, of tragedy. And what does it say of tragedy? That … Continue reading »Thoughts on Gormenghast
This is a poem I had written a while ago, based on a prompt that runs “a 45 year old music critic falls for a 17 year old piano player hailed as a prodigy”. I can’t remember where the prompt … Continue reading »POEM: Euterpe
I was asked to write on my tumblr a list 10 books that have stayed with me in some way. And so I did, without thinking too hard and without making sure they were the right ones or “great works”, … Continue reading »Ten Books
Grey shadows on grey concrete Slate Devoid of depth No true darkness here to hide in Or to die alone in Not someone there to miss Or even hate Not here the solace of despair Nor the soft cool … Continue reading »POEM: In the Dust Left by the End of the World
One thing I love about art – and one thing that I, admittedly, have some difficulty with in my medium of choice, i.e. writing – is experimentation. One of the most liberating aspects of art is the ability to make … Continue reading »Lomography and Artistic Messes
“The ceaseless labour of your life is to build the house of death.” – Montaigne, Essais I built my house from lust; From that moment Before skin touches skin When my hand hovers Above Her curving thigh … Continue reading »POEM: House of Lust