Category Writing

To your power and glory:

Barefoot I would run over stinging sand, Rocks with sharp edges – Blind to pain – Searching for escape, Hurtling headlong toward success’s heady rush.   Now I’m less nimble. I wait. Surrender. Succumb. Your sting has softened. Today you’re old bruise – A familiar discomfort, The mere memory of a wound. Glorious failure  – my […]

Oscar Pistorius. Afrikaner vrot banana

That great white myth – the Afrikaner masculine identity. [For Jacques Pauw.] “Pistorius was born without fibula bones into this obsessive and well-resourced sporting culture. He had his legs amputated as a baby, but his tough Afrikaner family treated that almost as a detail.” Simon Kuper in The Financial Times. “The Blade Runner, the Afrikaner hero, […]

Boycott Woolworths

Abandon the Ayrshire fresh, fullcream milk. Gluten free brown rolls, basil pesto wraps. Prosciutto Crudo. Chorizo. Serrano. Parma, antipasto and Salame Milano. Don’t buy the blueberries. Strawberries. Or gooseberries. Say no to the figs and fresh Medjool dates. And that fresh sundried tomato soup should not pass your gate. Refuse the free range rotisserie…. Bloody hell! This boycott […]

Ronnie, Bob & River – 2

The kitchen door lock popped. Bob was lying on the floor and there was blood oozing from a nasty cut on her left temple and ear. I was going to hang up the phone. She looked dead. Ronnie picked her up and checked her breathing. She’s okay, he nodded with tears streaming down his cheeks. […]

Ronnie, Bob & River – 1

Moss-covered river pebbles. That’s the first thing that came to mind when Ronnie spoke. Moss-covered river pebbles, cold with fear that caught in his throat before spilling over his lips. “They took her, D,” he said. “What? Who?” “Child Services. They took River.” River was Ronnie’s only daughter. She was about seven at the time. […]

Lucy and I

I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the taillights following us. Long neon shadows. I was speeding, but hell, Lucy and I had a party to go to and we needed another drink before the hangovers kicked in. Mine was already starting in the back of my throat, a weird place for a hangover […]

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 […]