“We never reach a goal hoped for. But we can reach a goal unhoped for. At times this can hold good surprises for me.” Hélène Cixous, Writing Blind I am trying to make something good here. I am doing it at the expense of the thing. Sometimes I forget. I wonder what could have been… Continue reading Hot room
Tag: life
Resort
“Every story tells of a ghost. At the end, the centre of a story is a Black Hole, but it isn’t black, and it isn’t dark. In the best case, it might gleam.” Judith Hermann, We Would Have Told Each Other Everything What I will say is this: spring always comes. That is not what… Continue reading Resort
March
Chose peace in the end and trying to congratulate myself for that, queasy with the thought that if my hand hadn’t been forced I’m not sure I would have done it. Knowing that what matters isn’t how we made the choice but the choice we made in the end, it doesn’t really matter how we… Continue reading March
July
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
Golden hour
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
This isn’t about you it’s about me
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
Stead
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
On living the dream
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
18/19
Letters for Rent 