It is this deep blankness is the real thing strange. The more things happen to you the more you can’t Tell or remember even what they were. The contradictions cover such a range. The talk would talk and go so far aslant. You don’t want madhouse and the whole thing there. - Let it Go,… Continue reading July
"Sometimes a vast solitude opened in my head and the entire world disappeared inside it, but came out again intact, without a scratch, with nothing missing." —Maurice Blanchot, The Madness of the Day Haven’t had anything to do with the man on my mind since he saw my initials on a list and emailed me… Continue reading new haven
I wish I was someone else, Someone good. I found a note on my phone that read: But there’s nothing there! There’s nothing here for me or anyone else. I can’t believe I’ve attached so much to stale tobacco on an armchair or not texting back. I don’t want to see something beautiful mowed down… Continue reading Golden hour
I know you told me so, and you can save your breath if a thought like that is coming up to the surface. It’s hard out here – in here, and god knows I’m hard enough on myself. But I do honestly appreciate you telling me so and also for taking the time to hear… Continue reading This isn’t about you it’s about me
I’ve thought from time to time that if I were someone else, I could find things in me to love. But I’m myself and I’ve never felt quite right with the idea of living on that plane. If I ever do build a home for myself it won’t be built out of reckless self-love, it’ll… Continue reading Stead
I sat down to write this and then I remembered that a month or so ago I recommended Sebald’s Rings of Saturn to someone having never actually read it. I now feel like a gargoyle and remember the conversation I had earlier about imposter syndrome. A bit pseudo for me. It makes me tired to… Continue reading Wild Swimming
It's been two years since I started documenting my job hunt and my life at home, desperately trying to become a writer in London. The gag is I actually became a writer in London. Granted, I'm making a living writing about the legal industry — something which (and I'm not scared of my boss reading… Continue reading On living the dream
Don’t look too closely at dreams of running, wielding sharp objects and banshee wailing. Step outside and feel sun on your face — remember how you sat on your bed with that beautiful boy and told him your braveness was what, like, made it all worth it. You weren’t even rolling; just giddy he was… Continue reading 20.1.19
Letters for Rent 