writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: I’m generally an honest person
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2011/02/im-generally-honest-person.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Thursday, February 24, 2011. I’m generally an honest person. Ever since my diary – yes, yes I wrote diaries – ran out of pages tenteen years ago, I’ve taken to eructing little pools of vomit in unswept corners of my work files. Well anyway, here’s one such piece I discovered nestled among notes I’d drawn up for a senior client’s scrotum-fondling bio. Looking back, I’m certain it was the wrinkle birthing brow furrowing distress of scripting a collection of half tru...
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: December 2009
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Sunday, December 06, 2009. You do not want to read Morrison when there are tendrils of heartache tracing old fault lines in you. Not even those trivial tremors from when you didn’t email me when I thought you would, because if you do, read her then that is, then goodbye and thanks for all the fish because there’s no way you’re going to work out of her words whole. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). To be a bird and shit on all that I fly past. View my complete profile.
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: Frank and Foilin’
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2011/05/frank-and-foilin.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Wednesday, May 18, 2011. Frank and Foilin’. After breakfast, we created a monster from the debris. Meet Frankenfoil, the soft board monster. Foiler of wily world domination coups and queer sentence construction, it bears the general demeanour of disarming openness and social ease. It can, however, be convincingly menacing under client pressure. Beware trespassers. There’s a Frankenfoil on the soft board. 8:44 AM, May 20, 2011. 11:42 AM, May 20, 2011. Im still on that fi...
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: January 2011
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Thursday, January 27, 2011. Love poems for you. A little over a year ago, I spilt a bunch of angry words and dignified them with the title: ‘Angry poems about you’. I’m all about playing with your mind, see? And now, so you know I’m not all pissiness and mutterage, here’s something less virulent, more bewildering and just as unpoetic. Written on a cold late December day, for Duck. My heart’s still tender from the arm you lent me last night. So, when you look back.
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: Can I help that you find my gravity irresistible?
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2011/11/can-i-help-that-you-find-my-gravity.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Sunday, November 20, 2011. Can I help that you find my gravity irresistible? We sat feet tucked under, beneath a dusty starless sky. I braided your fingers and you played your beat on my ribs – or was it my knees? 1 2 3 4 5 6, 1 2 3 4 5 6. To the beat of six you said, and I couldn’t quite hold it. Rhythms are hard, I said. But you were just swaying to it, you said, feeling the wiggle of my toes in your belly through layers of jacket and inners. 4:46 AM, November 30, 2011.
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: August 2010
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2010_08_01_archive.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Wednesday, August 18, 2010. The other day my heart ceased up but my brain was alive. I always become Jewish when I’m on the run. And so, heavy with a deep sense of loss from leaving behind a dysfunctional heart and a significant chunk of Europe in the 30ies among other things, my bundle and I fled past people and places, skirting at the edges of memories like thieves, to arrive at a familiar scene. As soon as the door opened, there he was. Duck. Sitting squat in...Turns...
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: For my best friend
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2011/03/for-my-best-friend.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Monday, March 07, 2011. For my best friend. Darling bestie, kick some ass, soak some sun and don’t forget to paint your toes. Love you. To X, Postbox: Asshole. And sundry sweet nothings. 8211; Because that’s exactly what they are –. In that precious little sunless place. Where you store the rest of your shit. Relationship hangover party trick. And a busy nose. Can a heartache cure. You won’t even notice, I swear. Flush it, don’t stand and stare. Hello, yellow moon.
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: October 2010
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Friday, October 08, 2010. Deer Park on Google Search. This is not envy. Or wistfulness. In those walks is he forever frozen for me. His earnestness, his conviction, his steady patience and his frustration. It’s taken me four-and-a-half years to muster the nonchalance to browse the internet in google-search of his work and mine – for we were making our films together, weren’t we? We were in the same overburdened rudderless little dingy in the night, weren’t we? I remembe...
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: February 2012
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2012_02_01_archive.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Friday, February 24, 2012. Music Music. Music. There is something of a floodgate about you. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). To be a bird and shit on all that I fly past. View my complete profile. Ads of the World. Deep as the Debo Blue. Derring Do's moon turns purple. My Favourite Tippler Boy. Nice Old Spice [New]. Nice Old Spice [original].
writingourwayhome.blogspot.com
Shout: January 2010
http://writingourwayhome.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html
It’s a lot healthier than sulking. Thursday, January 21, 2010. I’m fairly angsty in private. And, I'm fairly serious about making lists. So if it’s in a diary, I really must’ve meant it. Discovered in my travel plus lists diary, from a year and half ago. A list. And an insight. Monday, January 18, 2010. As a writer, increasingly, because with practice comes profusion, you see merit in giving everything a slogan. It goes: Because one ego’s not enough. I said, breezing by, when you eat five cheese pasta wi...
