Writer, seeker, dreamer and fighter. A child of the cosmos.
I like the yellow blinds and purple walls partially obscured by the bald vagrant above.
Fake wooden shelves around a few of my print books, on my mirror-image bookcase. Stacked two deep. 274cm, or 47.2kg in Earth units. The same digits.
Careers are over-rated. In fact they’re usually shit. But half of us labour under this giant tick gorging itself on our lives. A parasite we were promised would deliver a future of riches. An annunciating Gabriel drained by drudgery and transformed into a bloated corpse.
I have a cubicle job - high-pressure and low reward. My alarm sounds long before sunrise, then I wearily drag a persona from a drawer and force it on my tired body.
Impersonating a corporate drone might be how I pay my bills, but while I’m here I pace myself. I chew off a little time and breathe life into it - I study colleagues' traits and speech patterns; behind my screen I read blog posts on the craft of writing; I sneak off to do mindfulness in the contemplation room; each summer I steal away to a community garden and immerse myself in eBooks. I try to learn the Periodic Table, the names of the muses and the sovereigns of Great Britain since 1066.
Although it seems rather trivial in our post-truth world, I want to plug language symbols into long lines that represent imaginary sequences of events. Yup I want to finish a novel. Even if it's rubbish and takes place at my usual glacial speed.
So, inspired by Austin Kleon's 'Show Your Work', this little corner of the Web is where I'm going to try to fling up thoughts, and then hopefully snapshots of my creative process.
When an idea chooses me I normally try to quickly hide it in my 'Tropes' file, but I suspect those ghastly little nuggets of mental excreta want to live and breathe, so here is a small sprinkling.