Monthly Archives: October 2013

filidh & the dance of sorrow

(Still, when the heart and hand stagnate – I remember   a marionette submitting to a cante jondo I know too well – (I sing it even in winter slumber )   I perform the rite In ciphered steps across this unforgiving stage (may angle sar te merel kadi yag)   once, I was moved, […]

Taking the Express to Bethnal Green

I had a friend, He ate the seasons of the year. He swallowed spring and devoured autumn While grinning like a troubled beast   He shot up winter Just to lose himself in porcelain girls Who squabbled gnawing his insides. He took summer slowly And feasted like a werewolf, Devoid of pain, regret or death. […]

Party

A crowded room
Everyone sits

Comments on clothes

Wine trickles half willingly […]

Writing: The Shit versus The Craft

I often wonder at the back of my mind, where most wondering takes place, if this whole writing thing provides benefit to others. I’m not a published author nor do I have anything published in print. I have a couple of articles out there in travel blogs, wine blogs and my personal blog. But that’s about it. Have any of these actually helped anyone? I’m not talking about a comment that might read […]

My fidelity to perfectionism.

The story lives inside. Perfection. But wrestling writing into the world reminds me of… Every gory one-night stand I’ve ever had. The limp-dicked embarrassment of someone you’ve rubbed your genitals up against who pretends not to know you. The Friday night your mother threw her meal across the dining room table, how it hit the […]

Why I Like Bad Words

Fuck. Before I knew how to write, that is the word that I thought would open the gates to the Writing Pantheon for me. I guess I can blame a grade 9 teacher for it – Mr. Coetze was his name, I think. A young fellow, he was, well below 30, about my age now. […]

I’ve got a terminal condition. It’s called life.

On his first day off from the ‘farm’, Dawid Sundays sat back in the morning and had a cup of coffee that he brewed on the stove. It was the first time he’d done this – made himself coffee. The wife was at work. His children had abandoned him, and now that his offspring had fled […]