sunday stalker – the turtle (part one)

She reminded me of a turtle. Slow, purposeful, reclusive. Like she carried an invisible load on her back which made her move very slowly to bear its weight. A turtle is somewhat of an enigma – who knows what it does once tucked inside its shell for the night? What does it think, with suchContinue reading “sunday stalker – the turtle (part one)”

The Polaroids are, uh … in my other coat.

I still exist. Poetically. Philosophically. Physically. Yes, faithful Wuckers. I’m alive and advancing. Dwelling in ye Old Blighty. Enjoying a rather tepid summer and yet another Phoenix rebirth! You see, following the attempted annihilation of my character ‘n’ career by the most recent in a long line of Vaders, I boarded a plane bound forContinue reading “The Polaroids are, uh … in my other coat.”

Once more into the breech, dear friends!

Ah, Wuccans! How to build a bridge across the vast butt-crack of time; to create a proverbial g-string so that we may traverse what has passed and is past with words, wucs and euphemisms? To appropriately update you on what the fuck I’ve been up to while my blog grew hair and mould in theContinue reading “Once more into the breech, dear friends!”

A wrecking ball… is something else entirely.

It’s come to this: I sit with a glass of red, my emotions in a rage. Love. Crippled hope. Fear. Futility. Exhaustion. Defeat. A daisy chain of disquiet. Tumultuous seas confined to the teacup that is my chest cavity. A kaleidoscopic sideshow only I am privy to. Yep, that about covers it. It’s the first emotionContinue reading “A wrecking ball… is something else entirely.”

Give my best to your wishful thinking.

I feel a wealth of sadness today. I’m not sure why. If I had to guess, I’d say there is desire and futility battling it out in my chest, with defeat as the veracious victor. It’s maddening that the only kindred men I meet are unavailable. I suppose in the musical chairs of life, whereContinue reading “Give my best to your wishful thinking.”