That’s it, I’m done. If I ever see the fucking thing again it’ll be twenty billion years too soon.
But you’ll love it, oh yeah, for sure. Buy with confidence.
Well it took considerably longer than I had hoped but it’s finished.
The eBook is available now on Amazon. The paperback will be out within a few weeks or so.
Childless women in their thirties staying in bed until the mid-afternoon, reading their first book by Schopenhauer, Seneca or Montaigne – contemplating the apathy with which they regard their own mortality over the first gin of the afternoon and rubbing one out before the news kills the passion – these are the kinds of women you don’t seem to meet dating online.
I just read the manifesto of the vengeful L.A. Cop-Killing Killer-Cop who is currently running rings around his former colleagues after swearing to take the corrupt all to hell with their loved ones for a lack of honour, honesty and common decency. Continue reading “The love of my life; with name-dropping of philosophers, fugitive policemen and others”
Good evening friends, it’s been an age; how’ve you been? Your hair looks nice and you smell delightful. Sorry to hear about that thing that made you sad but congratulations on the thing that made you happy – I hope the things happened in that order. No, I didn’t kill myself, and thanks for asking; although of course those of you that know me are often subjected to regular mind-deterioration updates via facebook and those that don’t may imagine me to be sipping whisky in the lowlands, writing the Great American Novel the way it was always meant to be – by an Englishman in Scotland – so I shouldn’t judge. Continue reading “Previously On Battlestar Galactica”
DISCLAIMER: The following post took place over the course of several days of teeth gnashing. Its contents are intended for my own amusement only. Any medical advice adhered to that results in your own suicide and/or the murders of your loved ones in the most bloodthirsty and inhumane way conceivable is neither my responsibility nor anyone else’s, you fiend.
If you get treated like a patient, you’re apt to act like one.
– Frances Farmer
So I made up my mind and will not be going back to Teesside, nor will I complete the year. From here on in, this guff comes straight from the heart.
I’m going to mention mental health now but I promise I will touch upon it as briefly as I’m able; then we can get back to talking zoo animals, gig reviews and reasons why the white man will be the death of us all. Continue reading “Safe. Secure. Reasonable. Informed: Coming off Sertraline”
Back in the day – when I still regarded Journalism as attainable a vocation as Astronaut or Ghostbuster – I met a beautiful girl who, rather than take me to bed, distracted me by introducing me to her father. He was the editor of the soon to be defunct second local paper of a small Danish island and was keen to get the low-down on what the foreigners really thought of the place.
He asked me to write a piece for the final edition but back on the mainland my flat was burgled; I lost the draft and missed the deadline. A month or so later the Police arrested a junkie who still had my laptop – he couldn’t get past the BIOS password so hadn’t been able to sell it. The HD was undamaged but my mojo was, so here, for posterities sake if anything, is the untouched snap-shot I was working on:
Old Norse poetry spoke of Samsø. Your island was said to hold the long awaited bay of love or longing where one could find shelter and tranquility.
Back home, people are always asking me: ‘Why do you keep going back to Denmark?’ Continue reading “Vikings, Lego and Bacon (2005)”
Well… here I am.
I’ve been in Middlesbrough three days now, moved here after a year in Glasgow to attend university. I haven’t lived in England for more than six years and although the mortal terror I feel almost constantly is more a product of my own personality disorders than an indictment on the town it is still very strange being back among my own kind. Continue reading “Hello World…”