Journal Sequence #6: Intended Viewer [Stink is Gone]

I found my soul today. [Back to Land by Wooden Shjips plays] Oh, when that fog clears. It’s just… The stink is gone. The stink is GONE. Long, sharp acrylic nails painted sapphire blue. Rings on fingers, bangles on wrists. Curling, twisting, dancing. Embodying the freedom. Forwards backwards outwards inwards. And I see the fire… Continue reading Journal Sequence #6: Intended Viewer [Stink is Gone]

Journal Sequence #5: Notes from Hypnogogia

1. Retreat into a comfortable mental zone. Maybe one layer down. Think of a tree. A single trunk from which all branches grow. Sturdy, Dependable. Organic. 2. The towers stretching into the sky – human constructs – now gone. Melted away and replaced with visions of an unbound realm. 3. Escape from Space. Threads floating… Continue reading Journal Sequence #5: Notes from Hypnogogia

Cut-up Sequence #2: Remixing Mind [The Letter M]

He hated the spectre-creating machine. It was like the other: wild, rough. It made him sick. But where there is a weapon, man will use it. Where a man hurts, he will seek. Through a tube the egos turned into colours showing their relentless and eternal state of emergency. Humans are perfect green. A green… Continue reading Cut-up Sequence #2: Remixing Mind [The Letter M]

Writing Pareidolia

I’m fascinated by pareidolia. The way we are primed for spotting the familiar in the alien, the meaning in the senseless, the pattern in the random. The way we may or may not see the same things, like faces in froth or ponies in clouds, depending on our subjective experiences and values. Nature’s Rorschach test.… Continue reading Writing Pareidolia

Journal Sequence #4: Minor Fractal Loops [You Can’t Keep Doing This]

As I writhed in a pool of tears, and blood dripped from two fresh wounds in my arm, my best friend looked me in the eye and said: you can’t keep doing this. It was the end of our friendship in the sense that our symbiosis would never be the same, but it was those… Continue reading Journal Sequence #4: Minor Fractal Loops [You Can’t Keep Doing This]

Cut-up Sequence #1: Our Hammer/Still Moving

I’m in a metal box. It’s raining outside, maybe. No one is coming. Not ever. Sleep provides a refuge in which the mind becomes one with its [our] habitat. I must emerge in my dream because The Jewel is coming. I buzzed her in. Soon she’ll enter through my hotel window. I selected her from… Continue reading Cut-up Sequence #1: Our Hammer/Still Moving

Hybrid [Manifesto]

1. Writing about a writer is cliché. 2. Too many novels start with a journey. 3. Dreams and flashbacks are lazy plot devices. 4. Elaborate prose presented as monologue is self-indulgent. 5. Philosophy should be hidden, not overt. 6. So fucking what. 7. You fall out of one overused trope and into another. 8. You… Continue reading Hybrid [Manifesto]

Journal Sequence #3

Hide from the plain in the abstract. Hide from the line in the circle. Follow artistic whims. Portraits of the lost. Rich, lyrical texture. Live on the blade. Be honest with yourself. Who are you trying to please? The return of the muse. Bloodied and sick and raw and reaching. A disgusting attraction. Whatever works.… Continue reading Journal Sequence #3

Flash: Colour Bleeds Out/Only Birds

Colour bleeds out, sounds wind down. Muffled, blind. Straight lines, thick and thin, washed in white and grey. It is winter here. Gentle snowflakes fall, though they strike as something sinister. Am I the only one conscious, the only one not a golem made of meat? Playing pieces for cruel gods. This pawn has slipped… Continue reading Flash: Colour Bleeds Out/Only Birds

Flash Fiction: The Sky Is Turning Black

The sky is turning black. It does this from time to time, only just now it’s more of a concern due to the unprecedented weight it has brought with it. I don’t know what will happen if we get crushed. I call out to Tommy, but he’s floating in the pool of melancholy wearing nothing… Continue reading Flash Fiction: The Sky Is Turning Black