“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
