Forum Comments

Brilliant slice of life that had me reading with intent to know his fate. To sit there with his cod-piece face was a great way to end. Humour at its best, I'd say, and worthy of SOTW. Well in, Scozen!

When you get to the more complex pieces, think about splitting them up into easy to read portions. Most people, me included, like chapterlike increments to big projects, maybe max it at 1500 words apiece. All the best Richard

Etchillantay! I can't wait. I'll be there at about six to set the tables and chairs up for an hour and generally cast my eye around an empty room wondering if I can sneak an indoor fag out the window, so come early if you can. I'm not in trouble, am I? Just realised that I wrote a forum post about being human and making mistakes and all that on the 18th Sept and then on the 19th, what was the heading for the day in my Day By Day meditation book? Being Human! This life is fanfuckintastic, isn't it. R

It sounds like you're on form, Julie. I couldn't make the last evening in London but will be firing on all four cylinders for the next which will be in September for sure. Newhaven is overcast but dry. Italian villa is where I want to be! Richard xx

A beautifully feminine statement of emotional loss, making her almost frozen in time. I think the plural of crisis is crises. This is shockingly refreshing. Thanks

Cheers Maggy, and sorry for the added downer on a dastardly doleful day. The Tracey Fragments sounds good. I started a sort of similar piece for the lets start again comp, about a man seeing his inner child in the mirror for the first time since he was six, when he changed to defend his sanity from family madness that he couldn't understand. It's a conversation in which one doesn't really know who he's talking to, but I lost the thread of it. Checked your flickr pics. Lovely photos of some good vibe people. Keep snappin' but whatever you do, don't ever stop writing. all the best Richard

Hi Lenchenelf, I just read the link and it seems that the govt are using their door-tightening scare-tactics as usual. The only way they seem to be able to deal with problems is by squeezing whoever has taken advantage of the previous changes the most. As the economic situation has seen men almost as likely to find real work as them landing on the moon, women, and in particular mothers of a man's child, have found it more workable not to have the father around. What use is the man if he can't bring the bacon home? At the bottom end of this scenario, the father becomes effectively homeless forever and the woman is grateful to make do, until now. Melanie Phillips, a Daily Mail's columnist with whom I had little identification until I read this article, parts of which are below, hit the skewed nail as best she could. ..... 'In line with politically correct thinking, Mr Cameron presents such girls or women as the hapless victims of predatory males. But that is just plain wrong. For at the most fundamental level, this whole process is driven by women and girls. In those far-off days before the sexual revolution, relations between the sexes were based on a kind of unspoken bargain. Women needed the father of their children to stick around while they grew up, in return a woman gave a solemn undertaking to be faithful to this one man. ..With the combination of the sexual revolution, the pill and the welfare state, however, women's interests changed. Suddenly they were being told sex outside marriage was fine, unmarried motherhood was fine - and crucially, that the welfare state would provide them with the means to live without male support. ..At the bottom end of the social scale, however, these permissive signals from above combined distrastrously with widespread unemployment among young men, whose lack of income made an unattractive marriage prospect. As a result, girls decided that, while they wanted a baby,the available fathers were usually a waste of space and so they didn't want them to remain a part of their lives. These young men then treated the message as a licence for irresponsibility. And so the 'runaway dad' was born. To single out these boys for censure - while calling lone mothers 'heroic', as Mr Cameron did - is not only unfair and perverse, but will fail to get to grips with the problem. If it is to be remedied, women and girls have to come to a different conclusion about where their interests lie. That means the welfare state has to stop playing the role of surrogate husband through the benefits it gives to single mothers...' Hence the cuts to single mothers' benefit income as shown by the Fawcett Society above. So it seems that the govt has abandonned men from the underclass (previously the working class). Now, it is in the process of abandonning the mothers and children born to those men. As the single mother is squeezed into further poverty by its surrogate father, the state, having done away with and vilified the real father, who has now either been banned from seeing his children or has walked away from the injustice to somehow start again, the vacuum of despair compresses into desperation. Depression, self-pity, loneliness anf fear drive the mother to distraction from her primary purpose, mothering, and the children suffer as a result. The costs of a fathherless family to society are huge when all is considered. And the one victim that the state purports to be saving as its own; the children who have to live through this pain and heartache. (Read Stan Hayward's report on parental alienation syndrome to fully grasp the impact of a thieving govt, a desperate mother and a penniless father.) All the best Richard

Palpitations aren't nice. My doctor told me I have only three valves to my heart when I was about 20 and all I could do was increase my LSD and speed intake to place it firmly at the back of my mind. 3 out of 4 ain't bad anyway. 75%; that's the way I look at it, but palps increase with stress. I don't think the rallies are helping your son. Glad you're telling us more about your own mixed emotions now that Marnie's on the island. Left to our own devices, gratitude is a great reliever and acceptance helps us to realise that we can't bring back the past. Enjoy the present of the sunshine!

Hi Pia, I'm sorry if I offended you on the German front but history tends to repeaat itself. No sob story but when my Dad's house in the east end was bombed, he had to live in a graveyard with his parents for a couple of years from age eight. These things stick in the mind. My mother was separated from her parents at an early age because of the war. The scars run deep. Germany is still a very hungry superpower whose wishes run totally and utterly against those of all other European nations, including its own people who yearn for the return of the mark. What does that sound like when put in the context of domination? The euro is dead but they refuse to accept it as such and keep on trying to rejuvenate the damn thing. It's a very serious problem that has been instigated and prolonged by Germany alone, and I dread to imagine the kind of venom that we will be forced to encounter once their battle is lost. In fact, that will most probably be the time that Germany shows its true colours. Everyone's entitled to an opinion, Pia, so I hope you can understand mine. All the best Richard

It's good to know that this meant something to you, Shoe. thanks very much for reading. All the best Richard

Lovely banter here. Jesus wouldn't be seen dead in St Paul's, although that's probably the only way they'd get him in there. I think he'd rather be in the park at speakers' corner (oh, that's been closed, hasn't it). Well, maybe he'd be pitched outside Parliament (oh, they just passed a bill to stop that, didn't they). Ok then, maybe, just maybe, he'd be in prison for a crime he didn't commit. I reckon there have been many Jesus-type figures over the centuries. Trouble is, they're so much easier to snuff out these days.

The government doesn't work (we all know that), the onions don't work (see the top ten earners of the onions; it's on a par or better than dare I say it the govt ministers they pit themselves 'tirelessly' against; yawn), the teachers do work (but that would be better described as overworked to the point of breakdown), the lobbyists don't work (unless for themselves, as is the case with govt), the quangos (haven't they all pissed off to jersey?) don't work, and who gets to suffer the most? The children to whom the govt pledges its duty of care!!! and the long-faced parents that scrimp and save to provide their lot with half a decent life. As if. Cameron needs to enter the Lets Start Again competition. Maybe not. He'd make a mess of that too.

Phew.. I breathe a sigh of relief now that you've given it the thumbs up. Big thanks, Insert. You're a gem.

Excellent idea about the t-shirt. To put a poem on the back of it might round it off nicely. It might even catch on! I envisage the front of the t-shirt to have the face of a person with the words of a short poem replacing the lines of the forehead. Very glad this post was received in the way I'd hoped.

As we go micro, we will suddenly become smaller (minded) than ants and they'll take their chances with us and win out. Humans kill in swathes unknown to the animal world. They organise cullings at a level unknown in any 'beast'. they are ruled by ignorant, self-seeking baffoons and we deserve all we get if we let them reign over us. Nice little piece, Jennifer. Thanks

Hi Jenny, Thanks for your identification and encouragement. It goes a long way. Hi Christine, I always tell Mum I love her now I'm sober and I stroke her face too. Her eyes close and I can see how much she's comforted by the simple human touch. She still knows who I am, just, and we can have a laugh now that I know I can't reverse her condition. You remind me that a good mother's love is unconditional and I wish I could say the same for the mother of my children, but that's just the way it is and something I need to accept until the children start to question things for themselves. Hi Seashore, I think that verse grated with the overall warmth of this and may have shocked the reader unnecessarily, full of pain and the darkness of the past, but I'm glad you enjoyed it anyway. Hi Julie, Thanks for your thoughts and encouragement. I'm there for Mum like I've never been. It's good for me too and gives me as much pleasure as I hope she gets from our renewed love. all the best Richard

I don't mean to bang on but the dialogue explaining (or justifying) this 'piece of writing' reminds me of Reg and his dorks in Life of Brian. Again, I ask, who is a writer to 'be nice' to in pursuit of a cherry. His cat, an invisible editor, himself? I can call a nasal hair on a desk minimalist but it isn't bloody art. If this had been humourous, condensed to mean something, anything even vaguely witty, I'd be the first to applaud. But it is precisely nothing, which means that, having been constructed from two words, it is not even minimalist. Minimalism is about less, a world in a thimble, but these two very little words count for zero. It's not simply wonderfull. It's simply wonderful. Because it has absolutely no point whatsoever and there's just nothing there, it does do a good job to undermine those writers who really are desperate to be commended for their work, who strive to be read. Writers are sensitive and this kind of thing only dampens their spirit. If you like Tracey Emin and all the 'new' artists on the 'scene', then yes, 'be nice' might mean something extraordinarily profound to you. I'd rather watch a pensioner dribble into an old ice-cream tub for two hours than be subjected to any of her work. There is nothing there.

That's a good guideline on an aesthetic level, Maisie. As a personal goal, I think 3 comments is about right and I try to comment each time I go on, but sometimes I'm not in the right space. I'm also quite choosy with what I comment on. It has to hit home if I'm going to stand a chance of making a relevant and meaningful comment. I'm starting to think it's good the way it is but the benefits of commenting, both to the reader and the writer, are enormous as you say.

Shoe. Please don't take my comments the wrong way. It's like this; the voice of the narrator grated me, not you. Also, I find it difficult to know what sort of mood I'm in, so when I read something, it may bring out something in me that's completely separate. I can be extremely caustic and facetious when I want to be (although I'm trying to curb it) but this wasn't one of those occasions, I can assure you. I did a short called Cash Cow, in which the narrator was an awful, materialistic woman. If I'd read that, it would have brought up bad feeling in me, much as your story did, but I'd have understood that that was probably the writer's intention. A story that evokes passion of any kind warrants itself just by evoking that passion in a reader. It's a compliment.

Mnay thanks Tina.

She'd have to be pretty bloody drunk or very very thick not to notice he'd been driving for miles when her place was only half a mile away, let alone accept a ride from a fat old git. Oh well, one dead every day. Yeah, this is topical and everyfink but it doesn't scream of especially good writing, as the editors seems to think. I found this piece incredibly limp, lifeless and dull, oh, and trite, like Cheryl Cole's hairdo before she found that French shampoo to talk about on the ads. Topical's all well and good but substance is a fuck's sight more interesting. Perleeease, is this site a fanzine for teenagers or what?

I think you may have started the book already without knowing it. What I find most interesting is the contrasting absence of Joe for Marnie against Zachy for you; the excruciating distance, in which for Marnie the absence has been consummated by Joe's death, while yours is a battle with Joe's addiction and (the possibility of ) your own issues of co-dependency. Your take on your cat's ailment reminded me of a friend who has HIV. He recently stopped taking the medical profession's preferred pills and has been taking liquid silver instead. He continues to go to the hospital for updates on his progress and for the first time in years and years he's recovering better than ever. Your hopes for the cat finding peace in a quiet death could be compared to your hopelessness surrounding Zachy's addiction. This plot has a way to go and I can only hope that it ends happily. As I said, I think your book may have started already. As usual, I read with interest, and I think that this could make a very readable addition to a market filled with victims of love's absence. That's not to sound like a dig. I feel love's absence on a daily basis, in the world, within and, most debilitatingly, the absence of my children in my life. There's always hope, and perhaps your work can be a testament to that.

I just read this to a female friend and she thought I sounded angry, which pissed me off, and so I suppose I'm not quite over a very destructive relationship (but getting there, I hope). Then I read my friend what Alex had said about Wellwisher's actual question and she thought it would be very dull without men. My sister just came into the room and I asked her and she reckons it's an unanswerable question.

Hi Floozy, Just rewards for this as SOTW. I'd love to know how the Eden Project went. All the best Richard

That's a gracious reply. Thanks Andrea. I've just read into the adoption scandal and am fuming. Will write a detailed piece on it soon, but it seems that few people are interested in children. As to how old is 'old folk'. When I was really young, I remembered (and still do) the smell of grandparents. It smelt like death. When I was ten, eighteen was the pinnacle of my dreams. Even then, I wanted to be at the pub because it looked so cool. How wrong I was. When I was eighteen, anyone over thirty was an oldster or a weirdo. Now I'm well into my forties, my cough tells me I'm old but my head tells me I'm a rebel teenager. Old folk are people who find it hard to walk, get up, sit down, etc. I know some old folk who can talk the pants off me and have memories that put mine in a coffin. They can tell jokes and remember the war like it was yesterday. I take one old lady shopping once a fortnight and I'm looking for one more to do favours for. It's good for my sense of wellbeing and don't worry, I wouldn't accept a penny from them. I love old folk but they've seen the best part of their lives and reached a ripe old age. I feel sorry for them that they can't get about but it's the youngsters that worry me because of the shithole called society they'll have to live in. At least the old folk had hope when they were young. I visit my Mum twice a week for a few hours at a time. We now just sit and hold hands. When she lost her mind to dementia, I kept saying to friends that she 'was' such a lovely woman, as if she's already dead, but I have to accept that, in a way, she is. I need to say goodbye to my Dad but he lives in Cape Town and air tickets have shot up to £700. This might sound callous but I love my parents. I think the only reason we're having this debate is because the system is failing us terribly. We feel an unwarranted guilt when it's the govt that finds profit from vulnerability. In the old days, vulnerability was paid for and not profited from. The system is a disgrace and those responsible should be jailed.

Hi richard, Slirpie, Kilb and Julie, Thank you so much for your thoughts and prayers. The three day hearing has finished now but no outcome yet. The judge will make her decision in the next few weeks and then a final hearing in late October. I messed up with emotions yesterday but was alot better today. What a rollercoaster! I'm glad i'm off the ride and will leave it to justice. All the best Richard

This is agonisingly sad and beautifully depicts the clenched teeth of awful defeat and compromised acceptance. It made me think of beef farmers who rear cattle at a loss because of supermarket squeezing, slowly resigning themselves and their family to the sale of their herd. Great stuff Richard

Really good story-telling. You seem to knuckle down and hit all the right notes when you're in emotional and physical transit. I identify. In fact, I think I live my life as a potential next story. It's a form of addiction for me and brings on the best high because it was brought about and authenticated by me. The authenticity of your writing envelopes the reader and takes him/her right there with you, onto your runway, into your desert and through to your pursuit of love. Can't wait for the next installment.

thanks for reading, LG. I think there still are people whose lives are selfless in this way. A mixture of sadness and nobility.

I might have the same problem with the word God, Animan. It's been so misused and abused that it almost can make me cringe and has led to a lot of big problems for me. When I first went to AA (I'm a binge-drinker alcy), the word God on the walls had me headed straight for the door and I was gone. When I went back, tail between legs, I thought I'd better just go along with it. Life's a selfish program and all that. Even now, after years of struggling to get a grip, that uncomfortable feeling registers itself inside me when someone says God, but it's always when I'm feeling like crap. When I'm OK it doesn't bother me in the slightest, probably because I'm more open. Just think, though, the next time you really need help or you're totally surprised about something, chances are you'll say or think God or Jesus Christ. The two most commonly used last words of people about to have an accident are 'Oh God' and 'Oh shit'. No one says 'Oh spirit' and for me, the word God is just an acceptance thing. That said, I really don't want people thinking I'm a religious nut-job or a spiritual ear-chewer. The fact is, I need God in my life otherwise I'm a goner! I've got the terrible three; drink, drugs and gambling. Perhaps like you, people just don't do it for me when I need sustainable enlightenment so my search for contact with a higher power is omnipotent in my desire to live a decent life. God is a personal thing for me but I enjoy talking about it to people who are honestly searching too. We help each other, and if we've found something worth having, there's nothing better than giving it away, especially when that's the only way we get to keep it! All the best Richard

sometimes, we just outgrow our friends and all we can do is hope that they're doing ok.

You tell her, Peskmeister! This is great stuff and encouragement will always pay dividends. I think the ending is perfect because it shows the human condition at its most desperate, and I was left imagining further along time as to what would happen to the narrator. In my mind's eye, she would see the drug for what it is and move on and away from the addict. While he seems to dwell comfortably in dishonesty, cruelty and addiction, this pipe could evolve into one of two things; falling into addiction or releasing the self from the clutches of the past. I choose the latter for the narrator, even with a trial period of the former included. Desperation's a gift!

The word 'random' was invented over a bull's blood beer between William the Conqueror and Lord Rowntree of Likecloseby in the shade of the New Forest a few centuries ago. Its main purpose was to emphasise the people's rash words against William, who was in the process of overhauling the English language for them. Other words such as ding-dong, whoops and tomato-head were invented at this time. To celebrate William the Conqueror's English language, Rowntree's Randoms were introduced to school children and young adults. The adverts resemble the bull's blood beer-fuelled conversations between the two virile menfolk. It was thought wise to omit to the public that William, inventor of the English language as we know it today, was a Frenchman to avoid racist, tasteless taunting similar to that of the time that the word 'random' was invented all that time ago.

Hi Kevin, What a lovely way of perspectivising (note the s and not a Z?) I totally agree that we've been tightroping on life and it's a miracle we're still here, but it's all for a reason, I reckon, and life's on the up. I don't kick myself for falling so much any more. Like you say, it was a narrow bloody path and I was bound to slip from time to time. I was a professional slipper but kept getting up again. It's great to know you. All the best Richard

If it works don't fix it. The cherry system works. There is favouritism but I think it's borne out of actual preference rather than partisan treatment, and the editors are only human so it's bound to happen. There's nowhere else in the world that directs readers to quality writing from the amateur sector, giving everyone the opportunity to get feedback for their work. Abc's helped me no end. Cherries are a bonus but it's having a platform to exhibit my work that counts, and while cherries attract more readers, if you stay here long enough, you'll find that certain people will always go to your new work and leave comments, which helps to develop a style. There's not much constructive criticism because it can open cans of worms, but once relations are forged and intentions are set, risks can be taken to help writers without fear of hurting feelings. Now what was the topic again? 90 cherries?! No, I haven't got 90 fuckin' cherries! Honestly now, I've been cherried on about one in four of my stuff, and they're pretty spot on.

Thanks Beeme. Are you coming to the evening next week? Richard

having read this a few times, I wonder who this man is. Is it your father that you look to? They are generally undervalued in early life and sometimes our perceptions of our fathers can be skewed. Mine was by my Mum and sisters, perhaps justifiably. I'll never really know, but I thought of my illustrious Dad when I read this. It's a searching and fearless thing to try to answer questions of the past that seem to block our progress at certain junctures and all strength to you for taking these steps. I'll keep an eye out for quantum mechanics All the best Richard

Booze causes blackouts, which is probably the reason Marnie forgot, while dementia is an unstoppable physical ailment sped up by booze/life. By knocking the bottle on the head for a fortnight, Marnie will be able to assess her mental state. She'll probably be grateful to find that without the booze she is in better shape all round, which may bolster her desire to stop drinking full time. If the memory loss continues, then seek advice. That's my take on it. All the best Richard

I stopped it there because sometimes my posts get wiped when I'm nearly done and I was gritting my teeth as I wrote. This explains my stance on censorship; If you try playing God when you don't know the rules, we all lose, but when there are no rules, respect becomes more natural because people enjoy the freedom of making decisions for themselves. Look at broken-down traffic signals; when they're out of order, traffic flows much more freely, people get to their place quicker and they've got smiles on their faces for showing decency. No one wants to see me scratching my balls in bed but the fact is we all do it. If we all had to bathe in the same lake, would we ban the extremely overweight from cleaning themselves because of their perceived grotesque form? If there were no care homes, would we be too squeamish to wipe down our mothers' bottoms or would we do it with pleasure? Why do people always drive past an accident slowly? Because they think they're going to see something horrific that they've never seen before.

'Healthy body, healthy mind'. I just can't see you Bette Midlering it 80's style with a locked-jaw smile and yellow hot pants, pro-panting with ponytails. Seriously now, I think you're comfortably cruising with this style, Insert. It's so refreshing to read. Your latest stories are written with such ease and so fluidly that it seems obvious you're happiest when there's a couple of crippling crises on board mothership Insert, like you've got half a smirk on your face as you write in the face of fear. I find it very blooming readable to say the least, and would love to see this rich vein of jittery, indecisive, lost, childlike psychobabble go on and on. I think you've got a good enough start for a novel here. Long haul co-dep, house-selling, Marnie and all the things you put in the way to make life seem normal/manageable for a while is tres now. It feels like you're happiest in this state of flux and that, now, you're more than happy to expel it, regardless. I admire that 100%. Besides, the house'll sell, especially if you go 10% under 'market' value, not that there is a market. Trick is; there's always a rich, gluttunous, bloodsucking money-fiend waiting for what he thinks is a bargain. These people can't resist, only make it a snappy sale with a quick resolution, because house-prices will continue to tumble and you don't want the git to pull out at exchange.

Don't worry Frankle. It's spam

You can get 66/1 at Betfair for a June 3rd wedding, although St George's Day, a clip at sevens, is an equally enticing. I love the Queen; she evokes a strange sense of warmth and pride that I'd like to think means something. For that to come from someone who detests the gap between rich and poor, capitalism and greed, only goes to show what a contradictory person I am. The fact is, like the Olympics, almost all the tat sold for the wedding will be made outside the UK, and, as someone mentioned above, only the rich will reap the rewards. It might help to remember that 75% of British property is owned by foreigners, or does 'foreign investment' sit better? If this was a tactic to discourage acts of terrorism by militant, religious groups, it will only last so long, and doling out dosh to potential terrorists to stop them seething against us seems equally dumb. What I'd like to see is our country dissolving government and army but keeping the monarchy. Then, we could be proud to say 'for Queen and country'. But most people think that we're already so hated and despised that we'll be gobbled up in an instant if we let go of war and corruption. I suppose I must be a fool, but that's ok

Love it. Took me straight back to Rome where I saw Black Swan at the cinema. This could easily have complimented the picture in a whispery, insistent voice.