Thoughts fly from all corners of my head. They flit about unpredictably. No, not “unpredictably”, because they are not making their way through my fingers and onto the page. Only last week, my pen would have scratched effortlessly across the page, filling the feint-ruled lines with alacrity. Today, it’s all [I]Write about this! Use those notes on page nineteen! And don’t forget about that! [/I]It’s a horribly staccato way to write. I have no fully-fleshed ideas, they’re all pieces and I am not in...

Yesterday I had the afternoon off, so I decided to entertain myself by doing all of those mundane things yet strangely amusing things that you just HAVE to do, like getting a haircut, depositing a fistful of cheques in the bank, renewing my gym membership (after letting it lapse 3 years) and going to see my accountant about my tax return.

So I showered at the hotel – it was one of those unseasonably warm spring days in Melbourne and clothed entirely in black under my silks, I...

It’s a warm summer’s night and you’re sitting on a stone bench, alone, on the far side of the garden. Come to think of it, we could be in a park. The sound that emanates from behind me is the din of a party. In front of me: the occasional vehicle flies past, but the sight is obscured and the sound is muffled by a hedge fence. It’s midnight or later, not that it matters.

“What are you doing out here?”

You wilt slightly at the sound of my voice. You always said...

… godly. It’s the fault of all those “creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water”. I’ve got the cadence right, but the timbre fails me.

[I][COLOR=SeaGreen]This will make sense in a few days..... But to continue where I left off [/COLOR][/I]


The bell clanged for last drinks before I had the chance to blink. The quiet nights always seem to pass faster. I poured the final 5 pots of the night and 15 minutes later Holly’s locked the front door and collected...

Powerlessness has a distinctly sour flavour. It is not to my liking and nor is it to the palate of countless others, but it serves everybody well to taste it occasionally.

Friday evening I pulled the scotch bottle from the drawer for the first time in ... ages. Her familiar silhouette fills the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Hello, miss. Come on in. Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Off sick. And I’m sorry it’s a week...