Procrastination notes I To Avoid Procrastination, Never Have a Romantic Relationship My girlfriend Flo just left our first-floor apartment at 15 Móinéar Street to clock in at her job as the manager of a boutique fashion retailer in downtown Boston. She does not have a license, so she hailed a car through a rideshare app. […]
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Ice Cream I turn and see Blake struggle up the pot-holed street. Directly above him, an old woman smokes on a balcony, her bare arms resting on its metal railing. Blake looks like a tourist. An American tourist. Which he is. Basketball vest, baggy shorts, battered trainers. A back-to-front baseball cap. Two years in London
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I don’t want to die but if i do I hope not to burn in Hell forever but burn in Heaven, be on fire for Jesus as our Sunday School teacher says it, burning the very best way she sings out so Sunday after church I returned to our classroom, empty then but for God
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Oedipus Rex Walks Into A Bar I found him at the bar. ‘May I join you, Your Highness?’ ‘Glad to have the company.’ He motioned vaguely to the stool beside him. ‘I’m not the king anymore, so you can skip the formalities. Call me Ed.’ ‘I’m Homer.’ He extended his hand in my general direction.
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Bookmarks It might be a receipt, a bus ticket, or if you need that ticket to return on, the foil paper ripped from a half-packet of gum, an old hairclip, something humdrum, a pen, or even, in desperation, a tissue, slightly used (do not judge them) or whatever else can be foraged from the handbag’s
Before the show You will walk slowly into the rehearsal room of the theatre, you will turn on the lights hanging from the ceiling, you will contemplate yourself full-length in the large wall mirror, you will see a beautiful woman in her thirties, with features as firm as her character, luminous eyes, with her hair
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The Tale of The Trossachs or what happened when Ben Lomond took the Low Road You may not be familiar with Trossachs. If so, lucky you. The only place where Trossachs can survive is their National Park, the one that looms over Loch Lomond where the Lowlands of Scotland meet the Highlands. That’s probably best
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The Standards Line Beneath ice-tipped oaks, half-angry, amused, wandering beside a party of the beautiful — women in evening sheath and wrap coats, Chloe satchels, furs; men at their MacAllan and Maduros. I come upon her, reading Ferrante on a daybed, Manhattan in a chilled tumbler on the floor. Barefoot, lost in lyrics of Bewitched,
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Inspirations #2 ‘Inspirations’ is our sometime feature where our writers delve into the genesis of their work and/or their creative process. Follow the links to fall in love with them all over again, or visit our ever-growing Archive to discover new favourites. Be sure to check out Inspirations #1, too. Contents: 1. Lara Hurley 2.
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Life After I sit alone, where the jetty soaks its bony ankles in the tide. Bladderwrack drifts, and the waves keep gentle company with the shore. Dusk muffles the lonely curlew’s cry. The reed beds stir: a silent eel wrinkles the water’s surface. A sea breeze ruffles my heart, and I breathe out the remnants
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