The Ballads Of Mister Rhodes

“He who is infected with the fear of illness, is already infected with the disease of fear.” - Michel de Montaigne -  Ok. Well. Yes. This is an opinion piece. Not that the WiFi is working. Not that the WiFi will be working anywhere in the world, ever again, by the time I finish writing this. And, even if it was, everyone will have chained themselves and their families to the radiators of their stockpiled maisonettes.  It will be the same stupidity that ate it all up and got them there in the first place, that leaves all the electronic devices over on the couch, out of reach. Who would have thought that Dean fucking Koontz would end up being the next George Orwell? So, this Coronavirus epidemic is really happening. I mean, it’s not really happening. Not like they say it’s happening, but its definitely fucking happening. I even took a job as a freelance writer, hence the slightly new format. ‘Take what they teach you.’ Apparently, I can do things to actually ma...

“One thoughtmurder a day Keeps the psychiatrist away.” - SAUL BELLOW - When was the last time it came together like this? I’d have to turn back, through soiled pages of vellum notepads until the vigorous crossings out of wasted paragraphs came to an end. There would be something somewhere, I’m sure of it -hopeful of it- but my old friend the daiquiri won’t allow it. “Push forwards,” he says to the rhythm of a sturdy Viennese march. In Vietnam I can buy the ingredients to make two litres of the stuff for about $7. We were going to drink them together, but she got annoyed with me about something -probably somethings- and went to sleep upstairs. She likes how I drive the motorbike as much as I like having her sitting behind me telling me how much she likes how I drive the motorbike. Most of the time we just play fight it back in to neutral, but sometimes she just goes to sleep upstairs. I cooked a dinner of fried grouper steaks, sweet potato hash browns and a basic ...

“It was morning; through the high window I saw the pure, bright blue sky As it hovered cheerfully over the long roofs of the neighbouring houses. It too seemed full of joy, as if it had special plans, And had put on its finest clothes for the occasion.” - Herman Hesse -  Limber up. I woke up fresh, an hour before my alarm was set for. I had just finished running 5k at a generous incline when it went off. I saw the new year in with an echinacea tea, and a video call with a slightly tipsy Sovi and the adorable stray she rescued. I haven’t written anything in a while and just wondered if the words go down the same as they used to. My desk is a clutter of vitamins, minerals, medical reports, notebooks, half drunk cups of herbal teas, empty electrolyte sachets, coins from four different countries, a pair of sunglasses -lenses down- and one pink gum shield. I wasn’t going to write anything because I’m working on a novel, but I’m not doing so much work on the novel so...

"All the gods, all the heavens, all the hells, are within you." - Joseph Campbell - I stopped 'clapping' mosquitoes. It seemed strange to be stopping things from doing what they were designed to do. It seemed even stranger to decide I had the right to. Headphones in, one foot in front of the other, let the rain come down. The cats were waiting for me when I got back. Perhaps they'd seen her leave too. Sip a coffee, dream of the fire of a cigarette, smile when you start acknowledging the distractions. Keep adding on the easy fixes until you're almost somebody else. Sit with the many sides of yourself; try not to jump. Try not to look around at other things. A bikini clad blonde walks past the window in the direction of the pool. It's been fifteen hours since you last had sex. Sit still. There is time for everything, but all of it will either mean or amount to nothing until you have taken time for yourself.  Simply put, from my viewpoint,...

“Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope.  Sometimes we cry with everything except tears.  In the end that’s all there is:  love and its duty,  sorrow and its truth.  In the end that’s all we have - to hold on tight until the dawn” - Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram The sun casts a glance over the city of Zurich as I think about totality; the everything. The Swiss alps lay silently in the background as a cello softens my eyelids and relaxes my breathing. It is not so much what happens to us over elongated periods of time, but what we allow to happen to us in those unsuspecting instances that seem to find us. There is a journey of trips, dances, wide and narrow strides, falls and fumbles before us all; the only thing that I might contribute to mastery is the willingness to allow it.  I try not to write guru-esque or with specific individuals in the periphery, but the only paint on my canvas has come from the significant othe...

“That's all we have, finally, the words,  and they had better be the right ones.”  - Raymond Carver. I've never fallen asleep knowing that I would wake up to one less mother, and I'll never have to do it again. Three nights ago I dreamt that I was sat at her hospital bed and she had been trying to conceal something from me. Her attention to deception slipped for a second and I noticed that her ears were clotted with blood. She looked apologetically at me. I asked her how long it had been and she told me that she had only ever heard noises and never what they really meant. She looked apologetically at me.  The cleaner knocks at my door, I pour a glass of wine and walk outside for a while. When I return I know what I have to do. It is my craft; my torment and tourniquet.  If I may trouble you to stand -or at least raise your attention to its feet. I'd like to offer a toast. There will be days in our lives when whiskey tastes just like water, ...

"Consumed by the agony of remembrance. The remembrance of night's festive company. The one remaining candle flickers and dies." Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib I feel as if now is the right time to discuss my concept of agony to you -if I can be so foolish as to use the word ‘right’ at such a time. I do not write any of this with a sense of self pity, although perhaps it is a way in which a man like me gives a cry for help; I feel as if life has proffered me sufficient qualifications on the matter. I feel as if... In the late garbled nights of substance abuse and sleeplessness I find myself ruminating on the dangers of bestowing the power to bring joy upon another person, for in that power resides its opposite. Those that look to someone for happiness will find a darkness in their absence. In the bleary eyed afternoons I wonder where the grief goes. I can only assume that the brain and body stores it out of the way for the time being and then at some...