quiet things

managing to leave in my preferred time-period I avoided the brutishness of peak-hour public transport and found my calmest moment: standing in the kitchen cat underfoot cooking an unadventurous but not too unhealthy dinner for one in absolutely no hurry whatsoever. »

bus stop dust stop

we hit town one dusty afternoon. after some bad food and good music the next day left me sick and confused drifting in and out of sleep under a mosquito net in an upstairs loft of a traditional Thai household with just enough heat to feel uncomfortable and just enough medicine to get me through. cats wandered by my friends looked concerned but all i needed was time. the day after that »

friday morning

I caught myself eating a breakfast I wasn’t particularly fond of (but felt I ought to eat) in a fancy cafĂ© I wasn’t particularly keen on (but was conveniently close) while some unidentifiable music drifted by. so after a brief moment of self-chastisement and a little reflection I left a small tip which seemed appropriate. »


somewhere in the depth of my evening despair I figured I should go for a short walk to buy some cat food if nothing else. my spirits rose when I remembered that they’d probably have Marmite back on the shelves and so it was: I now have something tiny, black and sticky to look forward to for breakfast tomorrow. I am ever-grateful for small mercies they keep me alive »


a number of times lately I’ll hear a song or an album by someone from around 7 years ago and think “was it really that long ago? I never let that one sink in like I did their earlier work” and then I wonder why everything changed in those recent years? why did I stop? why did I stop enjoying things like that? The horror creeps in making awful suggestions »