Running. Away, towards, whatever. I’m running right now.
Imagine: standing still, while the you inside pulls away like a wad of chewing gum strung up to the underside of a shoe. See? One piece is still on the pavement, the other is bungeeing upwards away, momentarily free, until the shoe strikes the pavement and leaves a little bit of you behind with each step. Perpetual displacement with no refuge. Continue reading
I’ve just finished reading Jeet Thayil’s Booker long-listed Narcopolis, a swooning tale of remorseless addiction in Bombay. It’s mesmerising, conjuring a world that is filthy, violent, elegant and human. Continue reading
So, well, I’m still here even though it’s a new year and I wrote that ultra depressing post as 2013 petered into 2014. I had some lovely concerned comments from many of you – for which I’m very grateful.
I don’t know what it is about the ends of years that gets me so teary eyed and damned despondent. Maybe I feel like I’m still in the same place, treading the same black water – and it stinks. Continue reading
11 minutes to the new year. With under an hour to go before the year ends, I manage to have an argument with Ben. Not an argument per se, since I’m the only one doing the talking. More of a tirade.
This is not so different from last year, to be honest. As the year draws to a close, I can feel 12 months worth of bitterness and bile building up. The explosion is inevitable.
All those doubts I’ve had. All those suspicions point to the realisation that there really is nothing left to this relationship. The things he has done – and continues to do – have poisoned my soul so that every man is suspect. Every man is despicable. Every man is someone to hold in contempt and so, avoid.
Pop go the fireworks outside my window. Rosie lies asleep next to me. Ben is sitting in the living room.
Here comes 2014.