For this instalment I struggled to find images despite there being plenty of options: lies; deceit; ashtrays; antiques; backstreet dive bars; dodgy pawn shops; filthy rozzers; unemphatic judges, to name but a few.
Eventually I opted for Riddler-esque question marks so as not to give away what it might be about.
Since March I have socialised with four people; and one of those for only three hours (no doubt there are many who’ve had less than me). Interaction over the internet has become more prevalent in all aspects of life. In some respects this makes it easier; no one has to move off their butt to hang out. But lack of real contact and even seeing a face or thinking about what to wear out leaves gaping holes in a complete socialising package.
I’ve had severe problems (Spondylolisthesis) with my lower back since the age of twenty-four. Because of it being degenerative doctors dismissed there potentially being something wrong with the upper part too. After nine years a specialist in Bristol finally decided to get it x-rayed.
It’s such a cliché to ask a writer if they get and what they do about Writer’s Block. However, if you do have any good remedies, would love to know; have had it twenty years now, as the following ‘poetry’ goes to show.
“Pre-empting the Covid-19 pandemic and ensuing lockdown, Guillotine Dream sequestered themselves in a gloomy cavern in order to create their second full-length opus Damaged and Damned. When this didn’t work, they decided to use a recording studio instead.” Continue reading →
Timbuktu: located at the edge of the Sahara Desert nine miles north of the Niger River in the country Mali; though only so since incorporated into what France considered its colony of Mali in the 1890s.