Written with regards to a University career and general period of late adolescence which have thus far, had a dramatically negative impact upon my mental health.
Again, William Blake proved me right – only in cities could I too ‘see visions’ and ‘dream dreams’. Having spent most of August in a tiny Spanish town catching up with family and friends, I could feel my creativity leaking out of me as the familiarity of Spain set in once again. I didn’t write […]Read more "A Weekend In Roma"
N.B. All events in this story are entirely fictional, any allusions to the ‘real world’ are merely coincidental. Once, when I was old enough to know better but young enough not to care, a boy told me – betwixt tangled limbs and pale blue sheets – that I reminded him of a child. He said […]Read more "What I Call Flaws"
For such a crazy place, there was a huge amount of people all acting in the same vein of normalcy, as though cities made of boozy canals are the very epitome of ordinary. It was as though a child had picked up the world and kicked it on its head, all that we regarded as […]Read more "On Amsterdam"
There are so many things I haven’t been honest about. I trapped the truth behind an enamel cage for so long that I’m still trying to work out where the key is. For years lies pirouetted from my tongue and you applauded the spectacle because it was exactly what you wanted to hear. If ‘honesty […]Read more "Coming Clean"
I suppose I’m meant to start this by addressing you by your Christian name, which is strange. I’m just writing to ask how you are. It feels odd, the sensation of a pen in my hand being used for discourse, rather than ‘to-do lists’ or ‘notes to self’ or any of the other by-products of […]Read more "An exercise in letter writing"
I used to wonder if you could only really love me once you’d had a drink. If the burning in your throat functioned as a distraction, blurring out my sagging cheeks and the blackheads on my nose. I could become another uniform face, moulded in plasticine. What irony that you could only love a uniform […]Read more "Prose I Can Only Publish Because I’m Tipsy (Because It’s Both Shit and Angry)"