A few more hours in the day would be great, but it's distance that would help me get a little more writing done.
This week pushed me to the edges of my ability to cope. Luckily I took someone's hand and ended up seeing another story.
Before I hit this notebook's anniversary, I need to raise a glass to a different but not entirely unrelated first birthday.
When you feel something deeply, it is extremely difficult to translate it into words. They can be so isolating. But this week, I have tried.
The tale of a love long unrequited, but for once not only at last returned but done so with more passion and depth than I ever thought possible.
A visual clue as to my radio silence.
Why there are only a few words, and why 'talk about lock jaw' have been some of them.
A chill. A cosy gloom. The rain. This autumnal turn means a lot more than a handy topic of conversation for this particular Brit.
A varient on my occasional list of interesting things, here is a run down of top talent I've stumbled across on a recent whirlwind musical discovery tour.
Seamus Heaney died this week, and with his poem 'Blackberry-Pickings' he has reminded me of the importance of honesty and the danger of influence when experiencing the disappointments of life.
Gershwin and his oysters got me thinking about popular culture, artistic merit and the gifts we get from kindly creatives.
Competing with, and comparing yourself to a phantom takes your focus away from what's right in front of you.
Little illuminations on the culture of female sexuality really do pop up in the most unexpected of places.
If we lived perpetually in the conditional, we would never have anything new to say. It's the current that keeps us thinking.
It's all a question of normalising what it is to be on a spectrum.