overnighteditor.typepad.com
The Overnight Editor: Pilgrimage
http://overnighteditor.typepad.com/theovernighteditor/2008/05/pilgrimage.html
Laquo; Ice and a slice. Service will resume shortly ». Two golden bursts, flashing along a pair of burning silver strips. Like racing magnesium wireflames, weaving, crossing, criss-crossing. Join-rejoining. Curving towards me, then falling away. Train tracks catching the low evening sun. Leeds to London; two-and-a-half hours of an eight-hour round trip. When I asked for a return at King's Cross, the man who sold me the tickets had said That's a very quick turnaround, Sir. 12 May 2008 at 22:49 in Journal.
overnighteditor.typepad.com
The Overnight Editor: Round Two
http://overnighteditor.typepad.com/theovernighteditor/2008/06/round-two.html
Laquo; Two pieces of news. Rumours of my death. ». Led me to a small, diagonal town. Not like the city, which is straight up and down,. But with roads that slanted. And old houses that leaned into the years. In a gale, and at an angle. I'd followed breadcrumbs to the door of the shop. On top of the hill. And well, yes, almost from the jangle. We knew each other, not quite straight away. But from what we'd written, what we'd read. Isabelle is beautiful, by the way,. The mermaid of her paintings. We left o...
howshuw.blogspot.com
My Thoughts Exactly: The Polymath
http://howshuw.blogspot.com/2010/06/polymath.html
The everyday, only more so. Tuesday, June 29, 2010. I make my excuses, and get into bed. It's unfair," I text. "I am at heart and head a basic man, but one cursed with the awareness to realise this. He makes me panic that I am trundling along, ignorant, coarse, phlegmatic. I am the most learned person in this bed though, so this is where I am.". I mentioned I’d been drinking lager]. This is the stuff: learning! Experience, wisdom; you can only coast along with them for so long without refuelling.". Ponci...
howshuw.blogspot.com
My Thoughts Exactly: I arrive back home
http://howshuw.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-arrive-back-home.html
The everyday, only more so. Wednesday, September 29, 2010. I arrive back home. I get followed by straw through the house, like a slug does by slime. Camping, ugh, and drinking, ugh. I bet you aren’t able eat ten slices of cake in a row, The Otter had wagered, flashing a shiny fifty pee pence. I push away cuddles. At any moment, I warn, I might poo myself or do sick, and I’m not sure I will be able to warn you which until I see it. I am done with that. I am depended on. Christ, what have you been up to?
howshuw.blogspot.com
My Thoughts Exactly: Snip
http://howshuw.blogspot.com/2010/06/snip.html
The everyday, only more so. Tuesday, June 01, 2010. The slow moving traffic is afforded a grandstand view from which to inspect proceedings, as Darren leans over the railings outside The Saracen's Head [my apostrophe] and vomits onto the road. I wait patiently, watching the last of the sun glint on the tower of the Abbey. It is, I reflect, early for vomiting. Smile, to which one can’t help but respond "harrumph". Outside, Darren straightens up and I point. What’s your beef with sultanas? I used to drink ...
overnighteditor.typepad.com
The Overnight Editor: Wanted: Male sex bloggers
http://www.overnighteditor.typepad.com/theovernighteditor/2008/04/wanted-male-sex.html
Laquo; Going one-way on Earlham Street. Ice and a slice ». Wanted: Male sex bloggers. Don't believe what anyone says: Human beings have a mating season. The first properly sunny day in London this year. Lunchtime. Office workers are scattered thickly about the green open spaces, filling benches or making do on unwanted sections of newspapers. I notice a pretty girl flat on her back with her legs drawn up, and slightly apart. But are there any genuine, male, UK sex bloggers? Or maybe its just me? Ive enco...
overnighteditor.typepad.com
The Overnight Editor: Ice and a slice
http://overnighteditor.typepad.com/theovernighteditor/2008/04/ice-and-a-slice.html
Laquo; Wanted: Male sex bloggers. Ice and a slice. Smallhours Saturday. Back to the flat. Third date and both of us knowing exactly what it meant. Don't remember the cab ride. must've been one, somewhere along the line. I leave her in the front room, watching Have I Got News For You from the disk. In the kitchen, two gin and tonics become suddenly, wildly, algorithmically complicated. How wasted I am. Both are. And neatly, completely, slice off the tip of my left thumb. 24 April 2008 at 02:22 in Journal.
