I sit here now writing this at the wake of a funeral. I do not cope too well at these events. Not funerals you understand! The after event. Funerals are easy enough, there is a good dress code, little audiance participation, some form of reading in which to take 40 winks and everyone keeps much… Continue reading This is a True Story. It is all true; even the lies. (Cont.)
I died once. In the fading light of a summer's end nine years ago; I died. I want to tell you about it. It is hard for me, for it is very personal. But I died once, and you should know that when you die there is, nothing. For an eternity in a moment there… Continue reading This is a True Story. It is all true; even the lies.
"...to my mind writing about oneself is much the same as pleasuring oneself in bed, pen in hand, spilling wasted ink over paper."