NoNE OF tHis mAkES SENSE:

The adventures of an Independent musician, writer, and single daddy, with a cycling fixation….

Moving In Blues

The couple in the flat above were going at it like a Viking blacksmith.Bob tossed a can of lager in my direction, I caught it with one hand and settled back onto his couch. It foamed as I opened it. He’d been here two months, I’d just made the 200 mile journey over with the … Continue reading »

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Too Dark.

“It’s too dark”, he offered, throwing the manuscript down onto the desk to land with a satisfying ooomph. “Too dark? How can it be TOO dark? It’s just what happened, no more, no less”. Jerry rose from the desk, moved over to the window and opened it before half perching on the sill and lighting … Continue reading »

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“Shakespeare’s Shit”

This conversation actually happened, around 15 years ago. When the movies were released, I made a point of returning there and asking him what he thought of them. He hadn’t seen them. ‘They won’t be as good as the book’, he told me.  “What are you reading?” “Shakespeare. Hamlet. Seen it many times, never actually … Continue reading »

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Sitting on the Bomb

I was lost in my madness Lost in my memories Tied up intellectually and thinking of crime The batteries on this old camera won’t yield up its treasures A picture box that keeps its secrets to itself Pour the wine A shipwrecked train of bodies in mud Oh how we laughed as the rain poured … Continue reading »

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Wet.

“This bar’s wet. This BAR’S WET!!” I cared not, kept my head down and my elbow out of the way “This BAR’S WET!!” she continued forcing the moustachioed face of the barman from his Independent the front window was boarded up, but the growls and the howls of traffic continued to filter in below the … Continue reading »

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