There is no goddamn darkness at the center of your soul no more than there’s an abyss in the fetid sewers below There is no tortured victim no brooding martyr’s death no struggling Prometheus or upgrade from all the rest Humans live in humans, nothing else is there but a […]
Monthly Archives: August 2015
9 posts
Written with half a thought to the victims of the explosion in China but just today two reporters were shot in the US. All day people on social media and in the news have pawed over the details and images of the killing, which was caught on film. A story […]
As my memories of the shows I saw fade into the dim half light of ‘I was in Edinburgh, wasn’t I?’ I’ll call this the last of my Fringe reviews for this year. Any more and I’d not be doing justice to the good stuff I saw as the buzz […]
People place too much stock in things making sense. As a species we have, at various times, worshipped dog headed Gods, sat people on steel boxes full of high explosives so as to launch them into space, filled stadiums with tens of thousands of people so they could scream at someone […]
You know how it is right? You’re walking around in a hungover fug, liver desperately trying to filter away the contents of Sainsbury’s drink section. Dull and bloodshot eyes looking for a corner to curl up and fall asleep in… and then all of a sudden you find yourself in a […]
Probably my favourite thing about real life is that it’d make a really shit piece of art. The plot is usually paper thin, character development is random at best, the actors barely seem to understand their roles and the dialogue is usually shite. Like some of the more unfortunate shows […]
Well, I limped home yesterday from my flying four day visit to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. A grand time was had by all, too many drinks were drunk, good shows were seen, terrible ones too, many miles were walked and far too few cheap meals eaten but then Guinness is sustenance […]
Distilled into each exhalation is you; heart, body and mind eager to feed effect and flavour my life our lives and everything inbetween But what’s recieved is nothing just cruel, muted waves soft on the ear but echoing with an emptiness where you’ve disappeared and cold creeping nothingness reverberates onwards
As Tristram Hunt and Chukka Umunna rally the faithful to launch the Resistance to Jeremy Corbyn I figured I’d write this… Tristram rested a hand on the pommel of his sword. He could afford the comfort of calmness now, he was home, at last, in sight of the great white […]