Forum Comments

I like this a lot. Plenty of visual images that speak of shoulds, if onlys and what ifs. Its rhythm bowls along like a sensual blues number. All the best Richard

A good message for children and adults alike.

Hold tight, Lady B. Life's full of surprises. A cheery ending to a decent piece, I know the feeling of remorse only too well. All the best, from Blighter.

Hi Rob, I wish I could say all this without it being personal and I certainly don't want to attract sympathy. This problem isn't just about me; it's about, like you say, the state this country's in. A banking buddy tells me it will get a whole lot worse yet. In fact, this is just the quiet before the storm, the cocktail before the hangover from hell that won't go away. That the reverberations will affect absolutely everyone only tells me that this will be a necessary evil; the gift of desperation is almost upon us. Buy tinned food!!!!!! (It's alright, I'm not going crazy really)

Hi Sooz, I'm interested to know what happened to your story of 9th March. Sounds all very Kafkaesque to me, right up my street. Could it have been so heinous to be wiped away to the annals of digital corruption? Haven't read this yet but will come back to it. Richard

Sometimes, you've got to offer smackeroos to catch your man, or wolf. Nice one.

'awkward muscular contraction' and 'wishing on a celestial fire to set us free'. This poem reminds me of that tabletop pendulum ornament that knocks a set of stainless steel balls from one side to the other. It also reminds me of the laughably cringeworthy mistakes I made with girlfriends, completely unaware that what we were either insanely in love or at loggerheads. I never really got to the good bit in the middle for longer than a month. There again, I was a selfish bastard, too wrapped up in myself to take companionship seriously. I never committed myself wholeheartedly, so it always ended in disaster. Change is definitely in order. All the best, Richard

The atmosphere of this reminded me of an old film called The Bad and The Beautiful with Kirk Douglas and Lana Turner. It's a studious and well-measured piece, not overworked. I liked the way you portrayed the woman as a victim at the start and a player at the end. First prissey Victoriana, then affected Hollywood. The change worked. When she decided to sell herself short with Adam, I liked the lead's lazy ruthlessness, as if she'd done it a hundred times, changing her compass to suit her ambitions, an emotional hitchhiker.

this is great.

Hi Animan, Not sure I understand what you mean by I don't allow fate to be fate or God to be God. That wasn't my intention. No one has a say in what God does (his plan continues regardless of what we do) but I can shape my own little destiny (good or bad). That's free will in action, or inaction, as is the case most of the time with me. God just hopes for the best in us to come out. He doesn't care either way because he gave us free will, so it's out of his hands, and by doing so takes no responsibility for our doings. About fate, though, I've seen men and women who were regarded as hopeless, helpless cases destined for early death through addiction come through to lead incredible lives, and while this could be fate in action (which it probably is), there's a certain amount of action required from the living miracle to keep things on an even keel. Some (most) put it down to God, some to a rock bottom so profoundly low that they were desperate enough to change, some simply to a sense that if they're still alive after trying to have done with themselves for so bloody long, why not start living? However they managed it, the new life requires complete honesty, as that was the feeder of the illness, open-mindedness, as that rewards the spirit, and willingness, as that allows spiritual growth. These are people who live lives that were intended by God, and it only came about through almost certain self-annihiliation. I don't know why I went into that. but I certainly don't disallow God to be God. That would be so laughably preposterous that I'd be such a huge standing joke as to help others become intentionally delusional in their own thoughts of self-righteousness! Thanks for reading Richard

'I remember one particular ambush,' I don't know why but that made me chuckle like a fiend. Must be something I did in a past (pissed?) life. Managed to miss this but happy I found it now. Keep 'em coming. They're easily the best offerings in the whacky, wonderful and well written(WW+WW) dept of this site in my book. No chance of upping the stakes a little to 500 words, is there?

I love that comment, it068. Really is making me giggle because I know just what you mean. They're troublesome and always on the look out for something to abuse. Right at this very moment, Chloe, my sister's intrepid cat is eyeballing a black cat at the end of the garden, tail flicking sporadically with dark intent. Only trouble is, she's a fat cat and the other one looks particularly nimble (I noticed when I was watching the stand-off with a roll-up), so old Chloe'll probably have to settle with the territorial advantage. You should have seen the look on her face when I shut the patio doors on her! Not literally, of course, only she'll have to do something if the black cat approaches. They're as comically dumb as they are insanely evil.

Thanks for reading, but this was done as a twattish joke in a state of depressive anxiety and I'll be taking it off the site in a few days.

It's actually an old painters' term from Victorian times for badly applied drips of paint. Strange but true. Glad you liked.

It's really not that often that I can read through a story without jamming myself awkwardly somewhere in between the start and end, but this flows with such ease that it was a pleasure to read. I identify with not being inspired and being in a low mood but for this to have come from such a young adult, at such a low state of wellbeing, it only goes to show what a natural writer you are. When I was your age, I wrote jagged, nonsensical pieces that I thought must be fab. I had too inflated a view of myself to put it right, like it must be some sort of haphazard masterpiece, but deep down I was, and still am, plain lazy and self-deprecating. i knew it was shit but couldn't be bothered to do anything about it. On the other end of the laziness spectrum, it seems that you expect a lot from yourself, both emotionally and mentally, and that will surely seep into expectations of others in your life. Life, though, gives us nuggets of knowledge at intervals, it always gives us enough to keep going, but expectations usually let us down, even when we outperform them. Give life a chance and it will reward you. Take baby steps and you won't go far wrong. Acceptance is the key to all our problems (if we know there's a problem, we may as well accept it). The way you ended this piece on a high note shows that you're capable of working at it and that you hav the ability to pick up the tools of self-love. It's hard, I know to well, but it always work if we work it. All the best Richard

Thanks to you all for your comments. I wrote this in a few hours after watching Red Riding and hearing from a mate who'd been abused by the police on the same day. I realise that it's best to sit on stories and nurture them through.

Brave the gates and take easyjet to Toulouse for a weekend's restoration. But be prepared; People will smile at you there without wanting anything from you and you will feel 'free' (look this word up in the dictionary, which, remarkably, it still houses). Food will taste good and, after a few days, you will realise that no one nowhere is trying to get something from you. They are just living. Perhaps a week is better, just to enjoy this uncommon state of joy once the slit-eyed wariness has lifted. Nice poem written with gritted teeth, puffed up cheeks and taut fingers. Have you just given up smoking? Last line, I thought order would be better than mortar, but this is only me. Someone famous once said that the more rules and laws in a country, the more crimes and criminals, and so the more court cases and lawyers. Watch those conkers falling! and mind the gap.

Thanks, Sundays. I think you're being kind! I'm crap at descriptive writing, but the story starts after this one and it's quite a funny one. Thanks for reading.

Gruesome and ethereal at the same time. I wonder what the angel had in mind for the busker and where he was off to; heaven or hell? She seemed like a decent temptress and I liked the 'That's all we fuckin' need' line. I bet it was a gravel-voiced Scotsman! They don't mince 'em in a tight spot. Oops, a seagull just shat on the window and it's slowly making its way down. Seagulls seem to eat something that's green but I've never seen them eating grass. Good story.

Hi John and Insert, 'Discussing writing from Abc'; sure, but it's supposed to be about discussing other people's writing and not one's own. I'm not going to ask other writers to discuss my writing; that would be an act of self absorbed egotism. If someone wants to comment on my writing, that's great, and I love to get feedback like everyone else, but I believe that this site is about attraction and not promotion, ie. by reading the work of others and sharing our own writing, we gain experience that strengthens us our learning. I don't suppose for a second that millionaire lit agents and multinational publishers are monitoring our every word and anyone who does is seriously deluded. All I ask is that a code of conduct be placed loud and clear to stop the site's forum topics being misused so that proper discussion is aired. There's a good political discussion just below this one but no one's posted a comment yet. Maybe that's a sign of the times, or maybe everyone's really happy with the govt, but we're only too keen to discuss what is obviously a laborious, contrived loophole for seekers of self promotion when there are plenty of things worth discussing, if only we had it in us.

This reminded me of trying to snatch time for lovemaking with the ex when four children would be milling around the house, although without, it has to be said, the tender patience of the man portrayed here as time wore thin between us. Quite Americanized in lingo, this one, but it still manages to effortlessly paint a great picture and provoke good thought. All the best Richard

Habits are hard to break, especially smoking, which tricks us into believing that it's a reward of some sort, something we deserve, when it's really just an eleventh finger that we use in a vain attempt to return to the womb. Tobacco's the most addictive drug on the planet. Once hooked, our endorphins are trained to release themselves only when we smoke, so our capacity for joy is almost entirely dependent on when we smoke. Bloody sad really. It's like any drug; it opens the senses but quickly closes the mind, until we have another one. We're just slaves. It may feel like it fills the dreary gaps of time in our life, but that's a lie too (he says reaching for his rollups). It just buries us further and further until it kills us. What a poem though. Smoke-stained genius. All the best Richard

Nice one. There's nothing to fear but fear. Life's a set of choices.

A brash, canny ditty encapsulating familial gormlessness, happily...I'm at it now, this is addictive.

Typo; 'What? Oh no if course not.' You little matchmaker you. I hope it works out between them. It'll definitely be a good addition to the story.

Horrific. The Roman Catholic church has alot to answer for, but the pathetic Pope from hell seems to think there are more important things to put his hand to. Maybe he's tired of touching upon the abuse his people inflicted on the soft silky male genitalia of innocence. I applaud your grandfather. Now that's what I call faith in action. Well done for broaching this subject. All the best Richard

Brilliant read. I love how you make me hate the Yank with a passion while, at the same time, giving a huge smile on my face. Wickedly done. You don't hold grudges, do you? You just whistle and watch through life as it goes by. I admire that. Envy? No. I'm into active opposition to the likes of Al and capitalism, not passive acceptance. Takes all sorts and there's plenty of room. You have packed a big punch in a short passage as usual. Where to go next with it? How about you give the money away in the township in front of the froggy oldsters and the black people are so grateful, they gather to sing you a song. The froggies don't like the attention you get and Al hears about it. Then, not able to let go the fact that you've been 'kind' and that he hadn't been there to take the applause, he goes berserk when you next purchase something so cheap in the first place that it would have been madness to dispute the price. He's so blind to see how little you have in common, and it seems as if you are his prize and he's your meal ticket. A match made in USA. I don't intend to put you down here. It's just that you seem to write best about the injustice of the world without actually getting involved in it or being affected by it. More please. Better than Matthew by a long chalk for me.

As surreal as life itself, and a real gas. This passes across the realms of believable but manages to remain very readable as it delves further into the grotesque backwaters of societal psychosis. Well done, jlb.

Brilliant title, and I thought you were going out there at the start and then it got going. Absolutely friggin' brilliant news. So much to love about the way you wrote this. The million fags, the hand reaching all things from his chair and the thought that the booking will confirm his coming. Of course he'll come. He's gone through the bravado bit; it had to be done. Thank God for rock bottoms. Desperation is a gift, and all that. I love Celticman's comments and I could see you huffing, or was it laughing, when you read. I know you've got a wicked sense of humour from reading your work. This shows what a lovely, caring person you are, though Insert. He sounds like he's well worth fighting for, this life-mangled Tucson man. Get him along to the Wheatsheaf if he's still here on 21st September. Maybe he'll have something to read by then. I hope so. All the best Richard

Is there a story here? I'd like to find out what it is

If a writer enters a competition like BBC short stories, they require each entrant to have been published before. An ISBN number/code for the publication the entrant had work in is their form of proof that an entrant isn't fibbing about 'previously published' work.

Screwed up and sultry in its symptomatic sadness. Have a gander at Lorrie Moore's 'Birds of America'. It's a collection of shorts and this reminded me of the character in 'Willing'. You'll lerve it. All the best Richard

That was hairy, and very well told although I got a bit lost between time-frames and scenario. Could be I've just woken up. I love retribution as much as I detest bullies, and while feeling hatred towards anyone does me no good, I wonder what would happen to victims such as these if retribution was cast aside.

Hi Alex, I don't want to lock horns with you over this but the social care system in the UK is so badly run that we need to learn lessons from cases liike this, where countless mistakes by doctors (WHO COULDN'T TELL THAT THE BOY HAD BROKEN HIS BACK) and social workers who dismissed dark bruising all over his body as chocolate smears, all supervised by a childless witch of a woman who took shopping more seriously than her job. I dread to think what Peter had to live through but I now understand the notion that some people are better off dead, or more aptly that we go to a better place when we die, when a defenceless child is treated as invisible matter by those that are paid handsomely to protect the vulnerable. I can only assume that you refuse to acknowledge failure as something that needs to be redressed rather than rewarded. A revolution, driven by a desire to justify our right to freedom, always finds that no one was in charge in the first place, and I believe that the government .is the most costly and useless part of anyone lives. Nobody is held responsible because nobody is responsible.

'After the dead world has turned off its corporate lights,- There's a spate of political poetry and prose that seems to be hitting/stabbing at a similar vein. Lights switched off by the government and no access to turn them back on. Hmm.. Of course they'll have some suitably unbelievable excuse why they can't turn the leccy back on whhile we all have to fumble around until enough off us have been wiped. Very visual poem, this, especially the wasted Tchaikovskys. Dandy fayre. All the best Richard

Poodles. I gave Sombrero Fallout to a friend ages ago. It's one of my faves and the only Brautigan I've read. Classic

Just the ticket. A lovely look at the loss of life's engagement. Divorced from all, the writer's targeted depressive projects a powerful image that mirrors and rebounds from window to window like a million-sided laser, gaining in power with each refraction. Britain to a tee. I think that this piece displays a real no-holds-barred energy and could be enlarged to make a story (in the context that it's given a plot, however vague). It's got a very gritty, psychotically fractured feel to it. It's like a shard of glass flying through the air about to go into the eye of a passerby. Story of the week would be fitting and may even spur you on to think big.