non-fiction

This is first time in over four decades that I don't have a mother on Mother's Day. Mom's name was Agnes Johnson. She was sixty-four.

In my opinion we need a radical rethink of what politics is all about.

My life has been a complete mythology—as complete as the life of the sculptor Giacometti—but no one will see it but me; for all of the associated events which make it thus are forever private, so

I’ve done a lot of exploring in London. Sometimes it’s led me down some dubious roads. At others I’ve turned a corner into a blaze of visions historical, social, beautiful.

The Fourteen Holy Helpers are a group of saints venerated together in Roman Catholicism because their intercession was believed to be particularly effective against various diseases.

I am a boy much like every other on this planet today, I do stupid things, I have a low attention span and I find falling funny.

The Fourteen Holy Helpers are a group of saints venerated together in Roman Catholicism because their intercession was believed to be particularly effective against various diseases.

Here, her eyes spoke deader. Heart longs for yonder.
Missing, just like her false teeth. Was her life meant for something more?
Just because.

To Misty

The Fourteen Holy Helpers are a group of saints venerated together in Roman Catholicism because their intercession was believed to be particularly effective against various diseases.

Well that put me firmly in my place. Here was me popping with hormones and him popping out zeds.

Tuesday 23rd April 2013.

The Fourteen Holy Helpers are a group of saints venerated together in Roman Catholicism because their intercession was believed to be particularly effective against various diseases.

Travelling on the London Underground

Friday 19th April

I looked at the thermometer this morning and it told me the cold weather was back and summer was over. It always seemed longer when I was a child.

What!

And did she mean for the next ten minutes or did she mean permanently? What the hell kind of mess had I got myself into now?

‘You’re staying with her?’

‘Nobody sits alone in here, come on, get up.’

He had hold of my hand and was just about pulling it out of its socket.

‘I can’t,’ I croaked.

Hanchurch is a word covered in pine needles.

Thursday 18th April 2013