Archive for October, 2009

two hundred seventy three

31/10/2009

This is about distribution of fiction.

two hundred seventy two

30/10/2009

The shadow of the ghost of the idea of Ian Curtis looms large over a pocket of North London. He remains unaware that perga paper and print will disrupt his intentions.

two hundred seventy one

29/10/2009

“Look, just don’t go listening to Joy Division.”

two hundred seventy

28/10/2009

An overnight reappraisal of “Heart Swells/Pacific Daylight Time”: Instant transmission of intelligent heartbreak.

two hundred sixty nine

27/10/2009

“You are thinking about a too-recent history,” she said “But you don’t have to worry that much about the future.”

two hundred sixty eight

26/10/2009

“Heart Swells/Pacific Daylight Time” is a song of two faces.

two hundred sixty seven

25/10/2009

Boxes,
Echoes,
Spaces,
Empty, fill furniture, move furniture,
The shape of the watch hanging, reflecting sunlight, losing battery

two hundred sixty six

24/10/2009

There’s a Polaroid Press entry written after a date in Canary Wharf where I remark that buildings don’t reflect the trauma of the financial sector, they seem oblivious. It is telling that I wrote this just days before being dumped.

two hundred sixty five

23/10/2009

Of course, Temptation’ was playing.

two hundred sixty four

22/10/2009

The beginning of the end involved table-tennis.

two hundred sixty three

21/10/2009

The Lady’s Mum made a coffee I couldn’t refuse. I became quickly hooked.

two hundred sixty two

20/10/2009

The boy winds up on the W3 again, watching the weather. It is colder now, and wet.

two hundred sixty one

19/10/2009

Julia’s image, hidden by a gas-mask, clawing at the sky. I liked the angles of her pen, rough-hewn and feathered.

two hundred sixty

18/10/2009

Morley and the legends around the table over breakfast at Veselka’s: A “Nighthawks” for those arch-spined, close-sighted, Peel Sessions listeners.

two hundred fifty nine

17/10/2009

The artist, all angles, reached for the sky.

two hundred fifty eight

16/10/2009

Did you wonder where I went?

two hundred fifty seven

15/10/2009

She wasn’t playacting.

two hundred fifty six

14/10/2009

I met Marc later. I like to think if we’d met years earlier then we’d have thought about our futures on the stony shore of Southend, and laughed about it later.

two hundred fifty five

13/10/2009

Much of it passed uneventfully, and that seemed good.

two hundred fifty four

12/10/2009

The Lady threw away stress with a baseball. Occasional snow and tombstones formed an unseasonal backdrop.

two hundred fifty three

11/10/2009

Mirrors, clammy hair, scattered towels, pumps out the door, hand to the wall, the cold, snatching privacy.

two hundred fifty two

10/10/2009

When I’m home in her house it all makes sense.

two hundred fifty one

09/10/2009

What he doesn’t notice is the heart-outline of his latte foam, swiftly covered as it is by a plastic lid. She loves him, if only for a second.

two hundred fifty

08/10/2009

Am I the son of Xtie?

two hundred forty nine

07/10/2009

The last time we could have crossed paths E- wasn’t there, appropriately.

two hundred forty eight

06/10/2009

“Hey, Gareth, I’m a mate of Kieron’s!”

two hundred forty seven

05/10/2009

Would I still well up to think of ‘To Build A Home’ had it not been for 2008?

two hundred forty six

04/10/2009

Winter dragged, that year.

two hundred forty five

03/10/2009

Winter dragged, that year.

two hundred forty four

02/10/2009

And I started to focus, body wrecked by some torturous poison, dripping with sweat on a cold November night, legs buckling and stopping me shifting even a yard while I clutch at bags and vomit. And this focus brings with it gasps for air, whole leaves of spinach plucked from my nasal passage, bile and couscous pouring forth, frothing, and I wished the focus would pass because in this clarity, in this precision, in this ecstasy of pain the only thing I can hear beyond my heartbeat is The Lady waking up and saying “Can’t you do that somewhere else?”

two hundred forty three

01/10/2009

Stressed, teeth ground: The Lady wore earplugs at night.