Sound advice for writers

January 13, 2017


tight little hole

January 13, 2017

Paul Proett: Fetish Illustration

One word from me and she spreads her arse wide. She knows from past experience there’ll be no hesitation on my part. I’ll force two fingers in that tight little hole, and stretch it open – then in and out with them faster and faster, ‘till she begs me to stop! She is mine, and willingly sacrifices herself to my darkest desires…

Claude Gannon
Chaires amies
Trans. Peedeel

the Ultimate Train

January 13, 2017


I don’t believe in the human soul. I never have. I believe that people are like portmanteaux–packed with certain things, started going, thrown about, tossed away, dumped down, lost and found, half emptied suddenly, or squeezed fatter than ever, until finally the Ultimate Porter swings them on to the Ultimate Train and away they rattle…

Katherine Mansfield
Je Ne Parle Pas Français

It’s been snowing…

January 13, 2017


And it’s bloody cold here…

hated reading work by women

January 13, 2017


I just knew in a quiet way I was ruined. If I agreed to be female. There was so much evidence on the screen and in books. I read Doris Lessing in literature class and that depressed the shit out of me too. I just hated reading work by women or about women because it always added up the same. Loss of self, endless self-abnegation even as the female was trying to be an artist, she wound up pregnant, desperate, waiting on some man. A Marxist guy, perhaps. When would it end.”

Eileen Myles
Foreword to I Love Dick by Chris Kraus


Diary 13th January

My to do list:

Breath in

Breath out

Repeat, indefinitely


In time our cities will fall, as other cities have fallen, century by century, into ever deeper decay; their forsaken streets grown over by forest or shrubs, the buildings reduced to gaping ruins, the haunt of rats and owls.

Such dead cities stir us with their desolate beauty, in sharp contrast with their past greatness and wealth.

The towers which soared into the air, temples to materialism and the terrible God of ‘Maximised Profit’, will give way under their great weight…Oh, time, great leveler, showing how great was our greatness now turned ruinous. Golden palaces of commercialism become tangles of brambles impregnated with the earthy smell of manure.

Even in the US, once great towers will become ruinous with time, overgrown with ivy, young trees sprouting from crumbling walls. And that great White House, dwelling place of Imperial Caesar and his family, will be home only to lizards and vermin and forgotten dreams.

Yes, we will decline and submit to history. London, Washington, all our cities, will join with the ghosts of Nineveh and Babylon, overwhelmed by time…And we will be as dust!


Her spirit double, I’ve discovered, is a tiger. She is a licentious woman, devoted to the pursuit of pleasure. But be warned: She makes grown men beg and cry!


Oh, God, what voyeuristic delight I take in watching you both. I’m sure it’s unnatural, but I don’t care!

Really, I don’t!

Watching your fine bodies wrapped in moth-wing shadows. Beautiful, unblemished, engaging in every indecent act your fertile imaginations can invent.


In this perfume of misery, in this dolorous salon, upon two slabs, two cadavers dozed, covered by bright white sheets, sinister vestments of terror.
(Isabelle Eberhardt, Voluptuous Corruption)


There are things I’d sooner whisper and never say out loud to you.
(Peedeel last night)


I ask you, honestly, would any young girl, even one from the year 1862, on seeing a giant white rabbit take a watch from its waistcoat, leap to her feet and give chase across a field? Further, would that said youngster then follow the feckin’ bunny down a rabbit hole?

I don’t think so.