an existentialist kid trapped in an adult's body
From the beginning of time, writers have whinged and moaned over a peculiar condition that hinders their efforts. A pest of the mind that either clouds your clarity or dissipates your creative clouds. Invisible and debilitating; a common disease still yet uncured. You guessed it, the old 'writer's block'. Not unlike the common cold, it... Continue Reading →
A sudden shift in comfort, Clothes bland and formal, Mannerisms safe, a well-oiled routine, Humour caged, fed scraps of the day. I’m told I’m now a ‘grown up’, Man, does it suck. Been preparing for this quite some time, Been told it equates to success. Been running around foolish-like for quite some time,... Continue Reading →
The widely accepted definition of nostalgia is a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. My definition however, is slightly different. To me, nostalgia is a most intoxicating distraction, an innocent that with magnification becomes a devilish vixen on the brain, sometimes the heart, and with... Continue Reading →
Since as long as I can remember, I've said to myself...and to anyone who would listen, "I never want to grow up". I also doubt that I am the only one. And for the longest time I knew what it meant to be young...but the forever part is becoming more and more elusive. Could that... Continue Reading →
Someone once said to me: "You're more yourself when traveling." I didn't understand it then. But now, I reckon I do. You see, there's a certain freedom that comes with being detached from one's hometown. Because, in our respective neighbourhood, town or city, we become defined by our attachments. Our relationships, spatial environment, the routines... Continue Reading →
Hello old friend, it has been quite some time. You may recall my feeble attempts at becoming a writer. Often self-indulgent and naive, though full of spirit, I toyed with the idea of such a profession and here lies the remnants of that undisciplined endeavour. Passionate, yet easily distracted by the lures of a good... Continue Reading →
headstrong for so long the plan was a given, even executioners can attest to the odd hesitation, reckons herself a James Bond of sorts, but fiction she is not. Curious George away from the book, heard a sound that would entice, a mind so fancy free, no thoughts of vice. drops of deep sugar bohemian,... Continue Reading →
giselleandbeyond 