I'm a writer and avid reader; extrovert, intellectual and all-round creative type. I want to write and make people feel. I tend not to stick to one genre but I'm not a poetry fan. I love feedback, I love messages and most of all I'm interested in finding out about places to meet other writers, exchange ideas and post good work. Let me know if you have any you can tell me about, I'd love to hear from you. At the moment I seem to be exploring my morbid streak. It's a thing with me, I'm a lady of extremes. Write to me and say hi, if you wish.
Interests many and varied; The colour orange, the sea, literature, french language and culture, theatre, live entertainment, castles, craft, Tigers, the dying art of conversation lol
Favorite Books The Elements of Style, Sweet and Viscious, Love in a Blue Time, Amsterdam, The Book of a Thousand Days, Consiousness How Matter Becomes Imagination, Jumping the Queue
Favorite Authors Mary Wesley, Shannon Hale, Ian McEwan, Hanif Kureishi, David Schickler, William Shrunk JR
Favorite Movies Three Colours Blue, Coraline, The Incredibles, Monsters Inc, My Life as a Dog (the swedish one), The Idiots, Lilya 4-Ever, Amelie
Favorite Music Butthole Surfers Pepper, Darwin Deez Radar Detector
I always remember you’re not here.Such a smiling countenance, so much orangenessso very gone I hear you in the silence of the passageway the silence of the house and the silence of the yard(I didn’t even know I was chatting,shuffling around in our island of a houseand now I’m just talking to myself)I’m aching for the feel of my dingo friendnot lostnot alone.Patient Hairy I remember the puppy with his head on my bed,soulfu...
In the abandoned building, amid the rubble, Abraham disrobes. His pale skin glows in the sun, his dark chest hairs protrude, accentuated by the shocking milkiness of his torso. He holds his hands high, grinning. Maggie unpacks their meager picnic scrounged from a recent dumpster dive. She arranges the slices of stale fruit bread using a plastic bag as a plate. As Abraham proudly displays his junk she throws back her prett...
I find my itchy feet leading me towards adventure, once more.
Life, she laughs at me, especially tonight as I sit at my computer. The machine is a heap of shit. The keys are sticky with age; the keyboard is stained and the space button is missing. Instead of a large friendly space bar, all I have is a small plastic sensor. I've been training my fingers to touch with fair accuracy. I believe that if you don’t make your decisions then nobody will make them for you. It's better to over...