a slightly mad poem for you
If you were a cult, I’d join youHand over my chequebook without a word and dedicate my days and nights to worshipping you If you were a river, I’d swim Continue reading
If you were a cult, I’d join youHand over my chequebook without a word and dedicate my days and nights to worshipping you If you were a river, I’d swim Continue reading
A while ago I taught a stranger to surf. (In the land of the blind, the one -eyed rookie truly is king). He stood up on his first time out. Continue reading
The keen eyed amongst you may have observed that it’s been a while since I regularly updated this site. I can’t pretend anyone’s been begging me to get back on Continue reading
Feeling like a stranger in one’s motherland is a discomfitting experience, but like more or less anything that disrupts the way you ordinarily view the world, you can learn a Continue reading
My response to Mark Pollard’s piece on getting a man to open up – apologies for the crass generalisations and largely hetero bias. Some of my best friends are men, Continue reading
The people whose self-selling skills I admire are all bound by a common thread. They communicate their intense passion and love for what they do in a way that leaves ego at the door; creating a separation that suggests it’s almost incidental that it happens to be “me” that did this – the accomplishment itself transcends the personal. Of course, go too far down this path and you’re in all kinds of Messianic trouble; next thing you know god’s writing your next album and whispering secrets in your ear about who might most enjoy a lovely glass of Kool-Aid…
On the internet, everyone is a child, as both Stephen Fry and I have observed (though with differing levels of wit and brio). Tiring of witnessing Facebook fuck-ups and Twitter Continue reading