Stomach-turningly saccharine writing that rips off the styles of other authors, without leaving so much as a waft of its own message or voice. Peeve number two, people who make quite a comfortable life for themselves being copycats of any kind of art.
Tonight is the first time this Autumn that I have ventured out by myself after it has got dark. It is exactly six o'clock on Saturday the 19th of November 2016 and I am currently on the bus, a green twenty-two, on the way into town to meet baby. We have stalled, momentarily, at the… Continue reading Composed Upon A City Bus, 18:00-18:09.
I haven't blogged in over a month. As much as I hate using certain incarnations of that word, namely as a verb, an adjective or a noun, reasons for which involve the very digital, online-World-terminology nature of it making me squirm, not to mention the seemingly standardised, shared personality evoked of those who refer to… Continue reading Reconnecting: A Diary.