Category Archives: Writing

From the memoirs of an addict II

In the late eighties I was addicted to crime novels, basically of any style – police procedure, noir, hard-boilt, single shamus, animal detectives, stuffy British, you name it. Even though I usually had plenty of work as a language traitor, … Continue reading

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A nice ending for a novel

And so they stood there hand in hand watching the waters of the river flow by until they got bored and left. – James Steerforth Author’s note Novelists usually attempt to wrap up the novel with an ending that packs … Continue reading

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Why the Catholic church?

“Why on earth did you drop off a dried-up Christmas tree with some ornaments still in place on the front steps of a Catholic church in April of 1978?” “Well, in an odd way we thought they’d be blessed.” “Blessed?” … Continue reading

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Striptease

I swear to God I didn’t want to go. My mother told me that those things are sinful and play on the desires of the flesh. I really didn’t want to go. But the guys in my department said don’t … Continue reading

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You can be damn sure

it’s going to be a slow movie if the hero takes about ten minutes to enter the place, drag his feet across the floor turtle-like and sit down on the sofa sloth-like, eventually putting his mustachioed head in his hands. … Continue reading

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Trans Europe Express

I boarded the train in X. Smoking was much more common in those days. In France, in particular, some people would smoke even in nonsmoking compartments. Even though I had a seat reservation, I changed compartments after two men, who … Continue reading

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Oh memory

Trieste, somewhere near Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia, a youngish woman exiting a gelateria with a cone stacked high. Made me think of a sack due to the shapeless brown dress, which seemed to cover a heavy structure. And immediately I thought … Continue reading

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The WTF poem

“WTF – I wonder how that is pronounced…” “Not that easy to say, it being Proto-Srpko-Pannonian. Not at all what you would guess from the spelling. Probably sounded like hwiss, the final f generally being mute for all we know.” … Continue reading

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Happy ending

That’s what YOU call a happy ending: you plundered our joint bank account, maxed out our credit cards and ran off with the Austrian masseur who looks like Arnold reborn and is twenty-eight years younger than you. While I’m home … Continue reading

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A confession. Sort of.

I know it’s not really an excuse, as if I gave a damn anyhow, but one night when my dad had grounded me and both my parents the jerks were out I got fucking drunk while listening to music and … Continue reading

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I could definitely like that cutie

“Hey!” A short-haired blonde with freckles and a turned-up nose had come to a stop to let her Labrador or whatever that big black thing was take a dump at my entrance. “Yes?” “Better clean that up!” A mischievous nod … Continue reading

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The target

“Target is crossing street. Following.” “Love that swaying little ass of hers.” “Shut up, Jeremy.” “Wonder what she’s done that we’re going after her.” “Target keeps looking back, seems nervous.” “Reminds me of Diana. Lady Di.” “Don’t need your puerile … Continue reading

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From the memoirs of an addict

… so I found myself taking trains, hopping on buses, taking my car through streets where I knew I’d get stuck in jams to have that extra time I needed for smartphone activity that I could not justify otherwise. – … Continue reading

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Wuthering Quotes

The useful word wuther, which has gone out of use somewhat since its heyday in the 19th century, should be revived and not be restricted to heights* alone! To illustrate how it can be used, there are some literary quotes … Continue reading

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Out harrowing

I’d been out harrowing since early morning and was happy to see Maisie walking up, carrying a basket. A break was most welcome. I parked the tractor at the edge of the field and climbed down. “Am I happy to … Continue reading

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Nostalgia

Life was so resonant in the Obituary Age at Mount Placid… – James Steerforth (© 2015) Three words – obituary, placid, resonant – from 3WW integrated in a piece of nostalgia that is as fake as nostalgia usually is and … Continue reading

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Scathing prediction

“You want to become a photographer of nudes? – With your makeshift equipment and lackadaisical attitude you’ll never get anywhere, I can promise you that.” Said my uncle Said to me when I was sixteen but already more than sure … Continue reading

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Red metal drawer

I was a black politician, and even though I was popular among a lot of people I also had a bunch of enemies. I knew this, and I also knew that it was for the usual reasons of envy, racism, … Continue reading

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Having only one shirt with me would pose a problem

There I was among high-powered officials, in Paris no less, and with a three-day program of meetings, gatherings, ceremonies and what not! This evening included listening to Charles de Gaulle’s piano recordings we were to absorb from oblong recording media … Continue reading

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Circles are round

“But I said that first!” “Yes, possibly. I don’t recall.” “You damn well know it’s the truth.” “Possibly. But that doesn’t change the fact that it made me famous, not you, and that I’ll always be remembered for saying it.” … Continue reading

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