Words from a writer too stubborn to fail

…would make for a great epitaph, no?

Anyway, and stop me if you’ve heard this one before, but a few years ago, when I’d moved back to the UK, I started sending out copies of my second book to literary agents (it was smaller, so cheaper to post) with nothing to signify who it was from or why but for “Please HELP me!” scrawled with a black Sharpie on the stark white of the cover.

My website was printed small by the barcode on the back at right angles to the jacket text and such was my naive, unfucked brain still fresh back in the fire that I felt anyone reading this GENIUS would want to seek him out and anyone WORTHY of representing him would be both able and willing, nay delighted to work their way through these cunning yet intriguing layers of mystery. Continue reading

In you want something done, go full lunatic

The Daily record is a Scottish tabloid newspaper ... it is to pornography as ants are to oranges.
The Daily record is a Scottish tabloid newspaper. It is to pornography as ants are to oranges.

I moved at the end of February. I was quick to take the place and hadn’t noticed the mouldy curtain backs or chair stains suggesting the previous tenant had found a way around the pornography firewall. The intercom was broken and the internet was down, yet XXXX from the letting agency found emails really troublesome. Continue reading

How to get your genitals working again once you’ve decided that the entire world doesn’t need to like you

...all your brain are belong to us sprach die möwen. "My brain hurt like a warehouse," sang Bowie.

Depression is the single most expensive disorder faced by Western societies and antidepressants are among the best selling drugs; yet modern antidepressants are no more effective than the first generation and electroconvulsive shock treatment remains the most effective treatment for turning that frown upside-down. *

Pinocchio! So this is where I find you! How do you ever expect to be a real boy? Look at yourself. Smoking! Playing pool!

- Jiminy Cricket

Sex during SNRI discontinuation is like the first time – if you lost your virginity concussed, held up against an electric fence in a rainstorm. During the relationships, flings and longer first dates of the last six years I’d gotten used to the numb pounding of dutiful copulation; I knew I should have been enjoying it more, and sometimes a girl would go the extra mile, but more often than not sex was there just to remind me what a worthless bloated addict I’d become. Continue reading

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