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Hello Ivoryfishbone. You know my pet hate? When people make a similie out of their soul. Souch as - You touch my soul like a moth on a gull.

Thank you for your kind welcomes everyone. The book of poems was called Old Moss. Good luck finding if you do. It came out when I was thirteen and I'm now thirty one. Nobody - theiving is a skill not to be underestimated methinks. Don't most writers steal from people all the time don't you agree? Have any of you been experiencing some connection between yourself and another human being only to have some small, disconnected part of your brain thinking, 'This would work brilliantly in a short story.'? It is a terrible trait. Once, a girlfriend I had read a part of my novel in progess and sat staring at me with her mouth open and her pupils dilated so that you couldn't see the iris. ME: What? JULIE: How could you? ME: What? JULIE: That character Julia! She's me! ME: No she's not. She's nothing like you. JULIE: She IS! Listen, 'I watched her undress from behind the newspaper. This was not my idea, but Julia insisted I never saw her naked. Her hatred for her own body was only matched by my hatred of it. I hated it because she wouldn't let me see it, unless I pretended not to. She bent towards the mirror, her arse white and lonely, pulling off her odd socks. She told people she wore odd socks because she was always thinking of bigger things, that she had no time to match one with the other. I believed she contrived the odd socks scenario to make herself seem more interesting than she really was.' - Joey, I wear odd socks. ME: It's not you. It's a character in an unwritten novel. JULIA: And I don't let you see me naked. ME: - pause - Julia is nothing like you. She has brown hair. JULIA: - touching her blonde hair and leaving room never to return - I can't BELIEVE you hate my body. So, writing is never easy, and nicking stuff of those you love isn't easy if you want them to climb into bed with you at night. Especially when you nick things that mean something to people to put in a sub-standard work that never gets published. Enzo - being a chid prodigy had no benefits at all. Better to achieve later in life I say. Wholeheartedly. I don't really want to be a Writer any more. Just like writing, and don't need my face on the cover of The Review to feel good about myself. Styx, I live quite near Christ Church Meadow. I have friends in Cowley. Nice area. Better write something and post it up now. Greetings all, and thanks for the warm welcome. Styx

Have no idea why my post signed itself off as styx, but have no doubts, my name is Joey Glass, and I'm not an alter ego of styxbroox.

Thanks cath. Followed your advice and put up a story. Glad you liked the white and lonely arse. An arse whose owner hides it from the world is a very white and lonely arse indeed.