I Think You’re Amazing,’ Someone Says To

He Wanted To Live Life In Such A Way That If A Photograph Were Taken At Random, It Would Be A Cool Photograph.

It Would Be Inappropiate, Undignified, At 38, To Conduct Friendships Or Love Affairs With The Ardour Or Intensity Of A 22 Year Old. Falling In Love Like That? Writing Poetry? Crying At Pop Songs? Dragging People Into Photobooths? Taking A Whole Day To Make A Compilation Tape? Asking People If They Wanted To Share Your Bed, Just For Company? If You Quoted Bob Dylan Or Ts Eliot Or, God Forbid, Brecht At Someone These Days They Would Smile Politely And Step Quietly Backwards, And Who Would Blame Them? Ridiculous, At 38, To Expect A Song Or Book Or Film To Change Your Life.

As New Dawns Go, This One Is Depressingly Like The Old Dawn.

If There's Anything I'm Keen To Get Better At In My Writing, Then It's The Writing Of Prose As Opposed To The Writing Of Dialogue.

Mortified At The Speed With Which Intimacy Evaporates.