Street Reading – again

He’s the type of chap you only see in ‘local’ pubs. I am sure you know the type.  He is always a bit scruffy and occasionally a bit dirty. He always asks his boss for an advance on next week’s wages, which is clever because now he owes so much money they can’t fire him. You wonder if he ever had a wife to look after him and the truth is that he did, but being a drunk, he thinks he dreamt her. He is waiting for the big promotion at the factory and at 58, has not realised it’s … Continue reading Street Reading – again

Street Reading: The Follow Up

OK. So maybe I can’t read when I’m walking, but it turns out I can write when walking: how cool am I? I won’t lie and tell you that the font is pretty or that I manage to stay on the lines, but it is legible and forms an instant download from the writing part of my brain. I never seem to remember mental ‘notes to self’ these days, so this is an important skill I have discovered. Hmmm … it has also opened up new psychogeography possibilities. Continue reading Street Reading: The Follow Up

I hear voices … and some of them are mine

I was reading Anne Lamott’s book about writing, Bird by Bird, and was squirmingly enthralled to see myself in print: ‘Left to its own devices, my mind spends much of its time having conversations with people who aren’t there. I walk along defending myself to people, or exchanging repartee with them, or rationalizing my behaviour, or seducing them with gossip, or pretending I’m on their TV talk show or whatever. I speed or run an aging yellow light or don’t come to a full stop, and one nanosecond later am explaining to imaginary cops exactly why I had to do … Continue reading I hear voices … and some of them are mine