Category Archives: Writing

Heard but never known

Midnight hour, The freezer hums, I hate being cold. Meanwhile, The clock on the wall, Not to be forgotten, Ticks and tocks, Always slower than he hopes to be. From afar, The car alarm wails. Hey, he screams, look at … Continue reading

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Untitled

Keep calm, she said. It’s okay. He looked at her, his eyes wide, his mind delirious. He felt like tearing up the world. I’m thirsty, he said. Can I have some water? She smiled and held his hands. Of course; … Continue reading

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Smoke

She smoked. Cigarettes are death, I said. She smiled. Yes, she said, blowing smoke into my face, I suppose so. She paused. What does it feel like? Warm, I said. That’s the appeal of death. It was a peculiar way … Continue reading

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Good English

“Today, during a break from feeling, I reflected on the style of my prose. Exactly how do I write? I had, like many others, the perverted desire to adopt a system and a norm. It’s true that I wrote before … Continue reading

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New Year’s Eve 2012

“Long time!” said the barman, smiling with teeth. “It’s all relative,” replied the iconoclast, smiling. He felt tired. “The same ole difference.” “That it is.” “What that in mind, a pint of decadence once again?” “What if I said a … Continue reading

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New Year’s Eve

‘Barman, a cup of dark chocolate and 60 marshmallows and don’t go easy on the hundreds of thousands,” said the man on New Year’s Eve. He was an iconoclast. “Are you sure you don’t want a pint of lager or … Continue reading

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the dancer

He danced in his bedroom. Alone. At the weekend. Silly man. Crazy man. Lonely man? The song was good. You can’t beat Gloria’s philosophy – the rhythm is gonna get you. Can’t fight it. And so, the rhythm got him, … Continue reading

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My ole fruity

She is now with an oxygen mask and a drip plugged into her swollen right hand. Her body is rigid. She’s so weak, dazed, and delirious that she lacks the ability to fully define her surroundings or recall the happenings … Continue reading

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The desecration of a woman

This breaks my heart. To see it is to witness a pillaging, the slow desecration of a woman, and the abandonment of what it is to be a human being. We see man reduce himself to pure evil, a malevolence … Continue reading

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Day One

Well it was about time to start blogging. Thanks to Modern Toss for their kind permission to reproduce these images.

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