Archive for Writing

This post is intentionally meta

I want to write more, and the only way to do that is to start typing. I’ve been reading old posts, rediscovering happy memories and half-way decent writing. It’s nice to have this archive to look back on, and I think so far I’ve painted a fair picture of the good and bad bits.

I’d like to carry on with the documentation, but the impetus has gone. I used to have ideas queuing up in my head, waiting for me to give them words. Now I have to trawl my brain for suitable topics. There are two things that have probably contributed to this change.

One is facebook. When I write stuff now it goes up there and I don’t tend to cross-post (maybe I should?). But I wonder whether sticking to a forum that includes captive family members (many of them minors) means I pull my punches and put edgier topics aside. Maybe, but at quite a subconscious level if so, because it’s not even like there are dark and stormy things I mean to write about but don’t find the time to address.

Hence the other reason; I think my life is just pretty boring these days. Our poly relationship functions smoothly, I’m not scared of getting married, or moving to a new country. I’m not depressed, and I’m no longer terrified of being a mother. I just am. I do lots of things that make me happy without challenging me – yoga, work, bike rides with Isaac. None of it warrants much examination.

That said, I think motherhood had wrought some changes, and I’m struggling to put my finger on how and why. Maybe there’s some meat there. Why did it take 32 years and a son to call myself a feminist? How can I have so much money compared to most of the world and still sometimes feel poor?  The emergence of my social conscious probably does warrant examination, but even that doesn’t feel like it would be interesting to write about.

Maybe I should stick to porn.



I wrote this three years ago with a recipient in mind. This is the first time I’ve read it since and I was a bit shocked by how graphic and unapologetic the description is, but I still like the piece.

Needless to say, there is content of an adult nature behind the cut.

Read the rest of this entry »

Book review!

Doctor Zhivago is so fucking good that I think I might need to learn Russian.

Noises, rounded, as if polished on a lathe, rolled echoing lightly through crisp, frosty, nut-clean space.

And that’s in translation!


Lara was not religious. She did not believe in ritual. But sometimes, to enable her to bear her life, she needed the accompaniment of an inward music and she could not always compose it for herself.

This got me thinking a lot about the people who help us compose the music of our lives. Family, friends, lovers. If you had the ability to always write your own music, would you be lonely or glowing with inner peace?

Speaking of which, I’m in the market for a new therapist. I have a few leads, but if anyone has any recommendations they’d be gratefully received.

Join-the-dots journalism

There is a bit of a ‘State of the web/new media’ article forming in my head, but I am too tired and hungover to write it.

The story starts with Dr Horrible and then probably says something about streaming content and free internet-based telly. Maybe a bit of “I heart Joss Whedon” fan-girl-ish-ness for good measure.

Something about Whedon being at the helm when the internet finally does for pre-scheduled tv, and then I’d move into the structure of his writing. Talk a little about accumulated knowledge across series (Twin Peaks?), and finish with a little Everything bad is good for you dumbing-up polemic.

Would probably need to bring the dumbing-up back to new and exciting ways of disseminating media, to make the piece a little more robust, but there you go. Online reportage at its laziest.