Month: January 2003

Two types of twitching a welcomed this eve: the first is a memory of yesterday, of looking out across a club floor, where a potato band were playing, with recognisable naĆ­f faces you could read every day of faked history from, and seeing that floor full of the spasmodically twitching heads of people who didn’t […]

]On the subject of old bloody bloom, so steeped in’t that to go on is easier than to go back, my sanguinne obsession has taken up apace. Apart from using White Blood Cells as a metaphor for death (skullish colour, consuming phagocytes, etc.) in my copy, I also started the day with a bloody mary, […]

Apparently I’m a writer now, speciality subject staves. What do I think of that? I don’t know. I’m happy sure, in that it feels like progress (even if it is only the next desk) but at the moment I could just collapse. I think its lack of air or light, and the continuance of my […]

O. Watched the ring last night. Curse my febrile imagination (why is nothing else ever febrile, why are dawns always rosy-fingered, why are statesmen always overweight, and why is this line of questioning so familiar? So easy to adhere to the common language, the regular expressions that must go together – Proust had it, doing […]