Life

While I was teaching a private (one-on-one) adult English class last week, a student complained about her mother. She said that she couldn't go anywhere or do anything without her. In short, she felt like all her relatives were suffocating her. She was a Thai woman and expressed her longing to have the 'Western Style' freedom from parents and relatives that most foreigners enjoy.

My girlfriend did it to me again! Here I am, at home waiting and wondering where she is - again, getting more furious by the minute. Doesn't she know that I hate waiting for anyone? Doesn't she know that it's a blatant act of disrespect to me when she's late, especially late with no explanation? How dare she do this to me! I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired! This is it. I'm gonna throw in the towel.

A short review of Will Self's new novel.

Turning my attention back to the sexy Corpsman, I said, 'Hell, I'm just glad to have the company!' I had a big sh*t-eating grin on my face; mainly because I was not talking to her face, but to the uniform-bursting breasts that were currently dancing in front of my nose.

I was always pretty 'open-minded' about extra pay. What the Hell, I gotta work anyway, right? Why not get a little extra, for just a little extra misery.

If you saw me in person and in civilian clothes, you'd probably think I was someone's meek, Asian driver or cook. But put a uniform on me, replete with gold 'Jump Wings' and a silver 'Dive Bubble', and I'm magically transformed into some mysterious, dark-hearted assassin'

My main interest is medieval history, but I sometimes relate it to life in the modern world.

The fear of death is irrational. Everyone and everything dies. But imagine waking up in a totally dark place, laid out on a steel tray. It doesn't matter how you got there. But getting out of there is everything, especially if you are so cold you can hardly function. This is a dark idea, expressing a scary subject we all must have thought about at one time or another. In the old days they even used to attach a rope to a bell when they buried people....just in case.

I’d been nervous at that first meeting in Robert’s flat. He had an aura about him, the Great Junky Queer Writer Of Naked Lunch. I’d been in awe. Let’s be honest, I was scared stiff.

A father's poem to his young daughter.

This is the first writing I ever had published, in the AUSTRAL RAAF School Penang year book in 1962 when I was 15.

My mind sometimes is a boiling cauldron of unbidden thoughts. I write because I have to. If I don't pen my thoughts I will never have peace of mind

A poetic vignette of a writer