Lovely people at oddball magazine (READ IT!) published an old poem of mine! Honoured.
I care because you do
I let a monster into your safari.
I apologized but [and you apologized too]
It is possible that we could
never see each other again
create a fictional future forever in moments for ourselves that feed into ourselves
again and again
But then again it’s creeping me out.
Considering to drink solids as I do
when I reach the espresso’s end,
that is brave, I feel.
You have no idea.
When the grain comes to the tongue I begin to ink:
What am I doing? Protocol has run amok!
Sit down and chew, for god’s sake or you’ll surely choke.
And then a similar dilemma. Can I walk and drink soup? Will they find me drowned?
Eating and drinking–so exclusive, yet bafflingly communist. I cannot do both, it seems,
Your words resonate in words I read. In movements of my legs. In pavement tightrope…
I’m writing to you as a former prisoner of conscience of the Brezhnev era. All other titles are rapidly becoming irrelevant against the backdrop of bloody Maidan. My entire life, I admired Western civilization as the realm of what is most valuable. Today I am close to paraphrasing Byron: “Treachery, thy name is Europe!” The depth of our bitterness is commensurate with the strength of our love for Europe.
If there is still anyone interested among the community of decision makers, I can answer the question posed in the headline.
Yes they do… because exaggeration by itself – well, it’s just not aggrandising enough.
I had the unhappy surprise of discovering that Alexa Chung hosts, or hosted perhaps, a show called ‘Gonzo’.
The anachronism of this post, due to the fact that the show has probably aired sometime in the past, is doubled up by the origins of the term way back in the 1970s. (There is something about ‘current affairs’ on my About page, which I think I may have to erase.) When the idea was challenging, if not simply offensive, to orthodox ears – the idea that subjectivity could form part of the truth and that objectivity is never possible – it was perhaps a pleasant shock of the real.
What might a religious person say when asked questions like, a. Who made God? Or, b. Why does God exist?
I’m afraid that I still retain the childish ability to have a panic attack in the middle of the night, when Brian Cox’s head appears in front of my eyes to remind me of the vast expanse of the universe and its meaning to me, a humble, lonely, insignificant accident, whilst employing words like ‘wonder’ and ‘amazing’ in all of their starry-eyed tedium.
I will never know the answer to his questions, and even if I did, it would only spawn further questions. It is an unanswerable question, because: Continue reading →