I am just going to come out and say it: I am pretty sure that Kurt Vonnegut is my spirit animal. When I read his works, I feel like he is talking to a darkness that has lived inside of me that has been protected by comedic outbursts and nurtured by the sorrows of the … Continue reading
I I go to my Mum’s house and find you standing in the kitchen but I know it isn’t you. You’re dead after all. But I see my Mother’s face and she looks so happy, so happy that I almost can’t tell her; it can’t be you. Somehow we are in the dinning … Continue reading
Travels With Charley is a travel memoir written by the famous Nobel Prize winning author John Steinbeck. Steinbeck piles some books, shotguns, tinned food, and his poodle Charley into a truck/camper van and sets off around the U.S. The book was first published in 1962 which was an interesting time for the U.S. and the … Continue reading
December is hard. Birthday, death, Christmas, funeral. A month by any other name would still smell of sorrow. I’m scared of going home, sleeping where you died. Blue walls, pineapple delight. Scared is not the right word… you were always a better poet than me, but I can’t show you what I write, anymore. … Continue reading
Organise notes for presentation I miss my Father Remember to pack laptop I miss my Father Check bus timetable I miss my Father Swing by the bank I miss my Father Meeting at 3pm I miss my Father Don’t forget to buy bread I miss my Father WASHING I miss my Father Think of something … Continue reading
Anne Hume was a Scottish writer in the mid-1700s who died in 1821. I would like to think that her songs and words not only speak to me because of their beauty, but because of an inexplicable link with Scotland, and my Father and our shared heritage. The song is about lost love and it … Continue reading
The first time I heard the word “Africa” was from my Mum. We were sitting at the dinner table and I wouldn’t eat my peas. They smelled funny and there was no way she was going to convince me otherwise. She told me in a stern strong voice, “There are children starving in Africa you … Continue reading
As Aeneas prepares to leave Dido she is heartbroken. Rather than live without his love, Dido decides to take her life. In her swan song she asks, Remember me, remember me, but ah! Forget my fate. But such simple words ask for an impossible request: remember me in good times, but don’t remember my death … Continue reading
Before words, before thoughts, there is a feeling. It is from this feeling that everything else comes. Like the small rock that starts the avalanche, it is that feeling that grips you tight and refuses to let you go. If you’re expecting me to recount an exact date or time when my avalanche started, I … Continue reading
As Shakespeare once said, “To self-publish or not to self-publish… that is the question!” Okay, so I may be paraphrasing here, but Shakespeare’s original line from Hamlet is not far from my own feelings today: indecision. Granted, my question does not deal with suicide, it does however, deal with a different type of death, creative … Continue reading
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