I open my eyes every day feeling that I owe the world an apology for accommodating me. I have been told I say I am sorry, too much, but the thing is, I enter every moment, room, situation, apologizing for being there, for being alive at all, I suppose. That sounds so dramatic. I am sorry for that. Continue reading “I Am Sorry”
Everyone falls. Everyone daydreams and falls into states of preoccupation, falls into the arms of another person, falls to the ground. Can you remember the last time you fell to the ground? I know it happens, but how often? Is it a story you tell about that one time you fell and were so fucking embarrassed? Or maybe you cried? Did you hurt yourself? Were you drunk? There is no judgement here. I have fallen and been embarrassed and cried and hurt myself, and yes, I have been falling down drunk. But, the falls that shake me the most, are the falls that can only be blamed on RP. Continue reading “Everyone Falls”
This is the kind of writer I want to be when I grow up. This is an extraordinary piece!
It’s 2018 and a long time now since I was a child, but my young self is written into my adult life like a secret I can’t shake off…
I watch my first episode of Popeye at home on a black and white TV. Dad laughs more than Mum and I do. Olive Oyl makes me think of the sadness of mown flowers, while Popeye’s can-like muscles remind me of Dad’s rhyme about Jim, the softness of tomatoes and how they don’t hurt a thing unless thrown while still wrapped in a tin![i]
Though life changed after my diabetes diagnosis last year, I think I still love laughter. But I know already that I see things differently to other seven year olds. I decide that I must be adopted and my real name’s Penelope.
I don’t realise it yet, but subconsciously I’ve started to construct my identity in…
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I have become a big fan of writing exercises, particularly ekphrastic ones. I think that these exercises keep me on my toes, get my blood flowing when all I feel is lumpy and stagnant. I like to be challenged as a writer, to be pushed into directions I may not go on my own. Sometimes, amazing things happen. Sometimes, the results are wholly uninspired. But, no matter what, I am writing and even if I only end up with morsels from the exercises, I have words from which to build things that may have remained closeted and dusty. The exercises also help to harness my focus and get me back to working on my collection (which feels like a herculean task, most of the time). For prolific writers, these exercises may seem silly, but for those like me, who embody the roots of procrastination, I think they are a wonderful tool. Continue reading “Exercise”
This is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. An amazing offering from one friend to another, one writer to another. It allowed me to see through the eyes and words and heart of someone I care for and so deeply admire. Thank you for these eyes Wulf!
This is a poem that reached into my soul today. For me it is about a longing I have felt for ages. For you, it will be whatever it needs to be. That is what great poetry offers, what it does to the hearts of readers.
I am not an easy person to be friends with. I’m not being self-deprecating. It’s not like I’m mean or selfish or particularly high maintenance, but I do have a tendency to disappear, sometimes for long periods of time. I get overwhelmed by interaction, by the noise of life and the efforts to be the consummate good person. I need to spend time alone with my thoughts, to clear away the debris that has clouded them. I guess you could say I am a loner. Continue reading “Disappearing Acts”