Ancient bulbs poke and nudge softened dirt, warmed by the foundations of a first heat, buried in snow and forgotten, way back when in a prehistoric stage of life. These circles and phases are born and die, the calendar a flip book, as Frank’s development rapidly charges forward. One week read more
The dub siren resonates and everything explodes illuminate like Christmas, a blinking spaceship. Daddy is always pointing out in films and on TV the use of mundane sound equipment for NASA-style dial-and-knob contraptions. Top-level secret spy apparatus, the gear running the whole operation back at HQ. That’s what it looks read more
Cotton fleece drifts across a blanket of newly cut green, Easter blue above and below he floats so you cannot see his legs. I climb rapidly to pitches only bats can hear, shriek like a crazy lady, hysterical squawking and frantic scrabbling for long-lost marbles. It’s a fuse-lit hormonal reaction, read more
Life had begun to open out an inch, to climb sluggishly from canon-deep sofa grooves, wriggle gracelessly from firm-set arse prints and detour from the jaded triangle of fridge to kettle to TV, the X almost scratched cleanly from the PlayStation remote. On Monday 19th October I drove to meet read more
Concrete crumbs trickle down shady beams, down tag-licked wobbly pillars, down jelly legs, rendered catanionic by deep, dark bass frequencies that rattle an echo in the skull and continue to scatter brain cells five days after. In amongst the peeling paint and pitch-black fire escapes they dance to hard, industrial read more
Four wily owls; Archimedes, Owly, Sam, Mr. Owl. The top Owl, Sam, has eyeballs that see in curtain-snitch style, feathers out of joint, mistrusting, he watches. His cronies are shapes, worn silhouettes that used to be, now an imprint on a life no longer there. We sit together in blinds-down read more
In the afternoon we snooze inside a barricade of cool patio shade, a solid no-neck bouncer safeguarding Frank from the wavy heat. Like two cats curled, spooning toasty fur that has retained the sun, dreaming of long, lazy days. Days that meld and scramble in fact and order. Reggae floats read more
The hospital bag trickled its entrails across the carpet, a moat surrounding a citadel of snacks that had conquered the coffee table, a fortress of sweets and peanuts, turrets of rice cakes, protein bars, raisins – all the items that had been packed and not eaten. The plastic changing mat read more
Sometime inside the early hours, in the cool, still blackness of expectant bedroom walls, it was there. As if in a dream, unable to pin down the start, an ache was rolling about inside my belly, lurching onwards and reversing in waves. Not knowing how long since the moonlit paint read more
A ten-ton mountain of eagerness and, even though his question is absurd, there’s no way to really mock him because to dull the keen shine behind his genuine eyes would be like kicking a gangly St Bernard puppy. “Yes,” the midwife confirms with an impressively well-trained poker face, “if you read more
Lying dormant, hibernating from the frostiness outside, a sofa slow cooker gently simmering away, wrapped up in a TV glow and feeling those now familiar belly rumbles, a bubbling hot pot cuisine. “You’ll know when you feel him,” I’d been told, but these miniature suds and somersaults hadn’t felt like read more
“And you wanted to know the gender?” The sonographer asked coolly, an afterthought, as she finished calculating every inch of Nugget and I replied with a faux-casual “Aha”, the only air my seized-up breath could push out, held in expectancy. It was always a given we would find out the read more
Tugging unsteadily at his t-shirt sleeve, shifting awkwardly inside the gaze of several parental eyes, the tiny boy with the sandy scruff starts to sing. A miniature chorus collects about him, swaying within a spell of tunefully high, pre-dropped voices; “There’s a new life in front of my face, read more
Gritty, murky flecks dispersed and stuck on gloss, bouncing synthetic hospital light with every curl, as her decorated nails traced the sketchy outline of an alien form. Hunched low and gawking, woman and man stopped in time, transfixed by three black and white prints. A girl again, pouring over a read more
“Alright Nugget Holder*?” Clifford shot back over his shoulder, waiting as I Pac Man bit the air, midway up the mountain that led to Luton airport from our backroad parking spot, in front of an angry scrawl, tacked onto a telephone poll; ‘if you leave your car here it WILL read more
Anticipation woke me early, my heart banging rapidly-out a reggae beat, jam-packed jots of shuddering low-end frequency licking open my eyes. Skanking figures dissolved from the night time dance into the day, a splash of Wray and Nephews remaining like a wet dream. Carnival morning is better than Christmas morning. read more
In the pause, that silence that followed, our fridge stood humming innocently between us, brightly decorated with the alphabet, a jumble of words sprayed head to toe like the multi-coloured yawns of several poets. The slightly charring smell of fish, mixing in the evening air, made me almost lean against read more
The BBQ crackled out, as the heaped plates of food were left lounging in the sun, free game for the wasps who instead reclined lazy and drunk under rum cups. In the afternoon-long-shade and full satisfaction, the conversation turned, as it always did with this particular group of girls, to read more
“Are you looking for an arrangement? Would you care for another cocktail?” Air caught inside the two with the same intonation, some American inflection and a smile inside each syllable. He drained the flute, tipping the glittery, syrupy sap down the gullet. The waiter materialised for the re-fill, poured, nodded, read more
It was in the Clapham Grand, on a floor like treacle. Just a scalp with matted brunette sweat, stuck across his eyelids. He was a disembodied cranium bobbing on a ball pit of gelled and slicked-back cruisers. That one. He was just a forehead on a dance floor. “That one,” read more
Leaves fall, drop from naked arms, sprout tiny lime and avocado buds full bloom and crinkle into fire again and shit, it’s been a year. I should have come sooner. Remember Uncle Dave’s funeral, you attempting to get your eyes dry in the cold, I tried to hold read more
My only company is the questions resting between my fingers and the keys, alphabet shadows Over-Thought WITH CAPS Is this too personal? And the killer, who cares? After a decade of swagger and strut, “stories” dressed-up in costume but barely hidden between the lines, A tool I use to be read more
A braided beauty in aztec-patterned high-top shoes, reverses back against a boy in blue. Daggering to the bump of sound system bass, She leans too far forward and topples on her face. She’s a five-star carny casualty. Six tiny-looking girls inhale matching blue balloons, A collective breath is taken until read more
You appear on my front step with a box of food in your arms, smuggled rations, you check your blind spot to see if you were followed. A red face, dressed in your army coat, you’ve been at war. Left years ago, with the promise of fixing fajitas, came back read more
The art space, a lonely pin, buried deep inside a deserted retail park. Techno, obviously. And Weirdos, self-proclaimed and exquisitely smiley, compared to the sauer-faced doorman we had encountered the day before at Ohm. The party was eight floors up, at the top of an apartment block and the moon read more
A face peeled back, skinned, unwrapped, those bare minted polos. Hearts hacked out and filled with acid, Sucked out like Rolos. Drenched walls of an Icelandic box, dug deep inside snow drifts. On a parallel planet of frost, their reality shifts. Disappearing, waning, gone, nothing to touch. read more
Between the black T. Shirt beard scratchers, and the iTunes shufflers, stands the DJ. He’s in the firing line of well-oiled mouths loosened by a couple of tequilas. The crucial spot to have his nuts grabbed, ears burned. Third-person agony aunt, emotional punch bag. He’s caining the rider beers, there read more
If you just had confidence you’d be… he uses his hands to illustrate a bomb exploding, Hiroshima between palms. I feel, eyes full of smoke, just another particle of self, eroding, giving additional ammo to my internal voice. It’s the word just that loiters, downloading every memory we have read more
Wot you call it? Urban? Each night here there’s a show, Man’s on … he’s gonna get that money he’s owed, Every night a different fight, at the bus stop on Uxbridge Road. Blue northern lights, blinded by, sparked-up and glowed against flammable cladding. 2-step? Newsagent bloke, built like read more
Chasing the snowy cotton tail, Rambling the Indian travel trail, Fucking the bearded sexy male, Consuming the vegan super kale. Winning the mega-bucks client, Acting-out tall like a giant, Fitting-in the system compliant, Railing against it defiant. Toning the belly thin, Guzzling down the gin, Sleeping skin read more
Dig your nails right in, fizzy cola top, carrying a sheep on your head, old style, like a shepherd from the bible innit? He’s grinning super-cute and wide, looks like an adolescent Michael Jackson with that mane, cotton wool cloud full of storms, dig your nails right in girls, don’t read more
This one doesn’t plug-in the mains, must adapt to fit the mould, Not as straight-forward as the rest, not the connector you were sold. Mad intensity because he knows it, you can’t ignore the sound, LOUDER and it will find you, on the commuter belt of the underground. read more
He said that you hadn’t been sleeping, You said you’d gone to the doctor to get some sleeping pills. He said that an old Indian man had told you the balance was off inside your body and that you cried, You said, that guy was on drugs. He said you’re read more
Margaritas for breakfast, ordered by the pitcher load to dull the mild hangover that was chipping away at my grey matter. “It’s a Marathon Monday tradition”, I was told, as I slugged it down with one beefy firewood fajita and the Everest pile of sweet potato fries. The window seats read more
Ribena Fingering the box, Ribena dents in a corner with her nail. The Chemist doesn’t run 24 hours so, hair piled, she shoves the compressed cardboard inside her coat and moves her slippers like cross country skis past the skeleton in blue performing the midnight wash. He exhales a low read more
It wasn’t like he couldn’t remember. Thick grey that hung inches from his nose, stroked the pavement so there were no edges, the giant ball sinking into a sea of it. Coloured like the one they used to bounce across tarmac and never let him at, he’d never quite catch read more
Dishoom on a sunlit Sunday, chewing hefty squares of paneer tikka soaked in “super-hot” orange sauce cooled by limes. My extra-long (as they’d say in India) non-writer friend takes a slurp of mango lassie and gets a fennel seed stuck in his top teeth. Sucking it out he announces, “If read more
The peppercorns of his eyes swell, devouring the egg whites around them. He’s shaking, white-like-a-chicken and overweight. His jellied arms wobble in American cooking-fat and jam. “They’re eating people alive in there.” He lurches for the kiosk. “What you got?” The shy woman blinks three times too many. “Dahl Shrimaan.” read more
Her lungs fill up as she physically expands across the yellow line, her presence widening, pushing the tiny bits of uninhabited air to bend inside the corners of the tunnel, the downwards curl inside her mouth. Sir, mind the gap, Sir step away from the doors. The man with the read more
Fourteen Leonard Street. Fourteen. Silicon. A grey tinge, a shine like rainwater, a reflective blue from the high windows that flanked all three hundred and sixty round. A tin foil Ferris Wheel, a merry-go-round of shofer-driven electric. Round and round, it made her dizzy, the height of it. Black taxi’s read more
Having spent nearly a decade of my life living in London, it seems to me that London is more about the internal self than the external place. When I am feeling on top of the world, confident and beautiful London has laid itself before me like a theme park after read more
Delicate wings, dragonflies shape blue and black cut-outs, butterfly patterns, hovering, hundreds to electric piano house, in the morning Sihanoukville daze. “To see the monks you say?” That smile breeds adventure, trekking to the Wat and leaving at dusk when all the English words have sprawled themselves across the sky read more
Writing is my freedom. From October 21st I will be residing in Phnom Penh, getting high off the energy of Cambodian children and falling in love in front of golden Buddhas. I’m excited to start my next project from SE Asia. Watch this space. Stay free.
What happens at the festival, stays at the festival. And for good reason. “808 as f-” is a story told in installments, fragments and differing styles. Gradually adventures unfold inside this magical playground, love is found and lost, where music is the ultimate high. For the 2016 UK festival season.
The Bigger the Hair the more I want You – Strawberry blonde. Fundamentally ginger in a certain light. Elbow length. A waterfall. Curls that easily wound tight around the fingers. Ringlets. Juliet Coleman. Fucking Juliet. Sweet and sugary, here on her European summer of self-discovery. American. Had “like never really read more
Festival Dreaming –I slipped into hallucinating, where she left me, lying on the grass. I don’t remember my eyes shutting or the exact moment the real fused with the unreal or when my clothes turned a stunning turquoise cobalt like the ocean. The pink and orange flags continued to ripple read more
Life is made of small moments like these (Above & Beyond) “Whenever we hear, sounds, we are changed, we are no longer the same, after having heard certain sounds, and this is more the case when we hear organised sounds, organised by another human being; music.” – Stockhausen, Karlheinz William: read more
Just say NO – Hippy crack. Most attractive and overly satisfactory piece of gas, stored in a shiny metallic pellet, looks like a pill, a capsule, bizarrely polished and neatly squeezed out. Silver bullets amass like seagull shit on a pier, scattered and littered across dry cracks. Trampled down so read more
