On My Eventual Death, etc.

1423c895332ed571061723b7e73e240e

Nobody likes to talk about their own, utterly, utterly, absolutely, hilariously unavoidable death. But I want to discuss it with you for a little while now because it feels healthy to be aware of it; to avoid hopping through life blissfully unaware of my mortality, one day to be smote by a falling tree branch and, my consciousness obliterated, rendered a floppy assortment of blubber and bone. No; I see you, Death. I see you there, hanging around with your head down and your skeletal fingers thrust nonchalantly into the infinite pockets of your ghastly black shroud, whistling and kicking celestial pebbles waiting for me to cark it. Yeah, I see you. Bugger off. Continue reading

The Berlin Diaries – Blinding My Boss

Wake-Berry

I always start these diary entries in the same way and I’m gosh darned bored of it. So here’s my newest introductory paragraph:

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

WHAOAOAKAKAKAKAKKAASDHOFUOEZZZZPPO

-KWIP!

 

See that^^^^? 100% Original. OG literature. Mark Twain said there is no such thing as a new idea. Well, I just proved him wrong. You’re full of shit, Twain.

What’s that? Joyce already did it?

Kerouac too?

Fuck’s sake. Fine. Whatever.

ANYWAY Continue reading

The Berlin Diaries – Ten Thousand Lamplights

43310.jpg

It’s Saturday afternoon and I wake up in a bed that’s not mine. We smoke something together and watch some television before I leave but that’s a bad idea, always is, because if I smoke in the morning I’m in a haze for the whole day and don’t accomplish much, and I wanted to write today but it doesn’t matter anymore, it’s a lazy afternoon and I’m sleepy and smiling as I drift back to my place. Continue reading

My Book: An Excerpt from 90 Pages In!

gavin-o-donnell-glacierscketch3

Hello again, you lovely thing.

Excellent news! I’m at 21,000 words in my book at the moment, which is just shy of 90 pages. By the time I’m finished I predict it’ll be near the 30,000 mark. It wasn’t supposed to be that long, but I’m simply having too much fun to cut the story short.

Below are 1,500 words or so that I wrote over the last day. As a quick recap: the king and his trio of companions are en route to rescue the kidnapped queen, Astra. The characters have overcome many obstacles, but are not without a few scars: the king is missing a hand, and Edgar has been turned into a panda. Yes, yes, it’s very silly, because silly is wonderful. Best if you temporarily switch off that grouchy part of your brain labelled ‘depressing adult cynicism’.

We join our bold quartet as they approach the last great danger of their journey: crossing the Sea of Pìss (pronounced peace). Enjoy. Or don’t. I don’t care. I love this shit! Continue reading

The Berlin Diaries – Getting Punched A Lot

boxpic12_10-12-2008_2IEEOJQ_t1200

Before you say anything, shut up. Yeah, it’s probably a cliché for an aspiring writer who drinks too much to begin boxing classes, but I do not care, because clichés are the fabrication of no-good arse-clappers who are afraid of actually doing anything for fear of looking silly. Do whatever the hell you want. It doesn’t matter if someone did it before you; you are you. Just enjoy your life. Continue reading