At 73, singer Marianne Faithfull remains, as her name suggests, both Full of Life and Full of Faith, having survived more hairpin life-bends than most human bodies would care to take the hit for.
Well documented elsewhere, (there is a biopic coming out this year,) it lies beyond scope of this essay. For those of you who do not know her life, here is why you should: Marianne’s weird yet wonderful life. Quintessentially British, very posh, and the Daughter of Baroness Eva von Sacher Masoch and Major Robert Glynn Faithfull, she was born in 1946. Having herself inherited her mother’s…
Highway numb, driving speed: anticipation,
to family reunion with no elation
a who’s who of veiled blame, smiles of muted guilt
where each comes undone as soured wine be spilt.
Oh, table of unruly eaters! Patriarch shamed,
matriarch by his philandering maimed;
daughter mauled in maws of self-abnegation
prodigal son, aloof, seeks abdication —
and what of the kitchen cutting board,
phantom stacks of Gran’s burnt blind argument toast?
Welts underneath deep from dulled swords —
some claim to have seen even chairs quit such hosts.
Upon arrival: father couched, immobile; mother-sister kitchen-fluster, require help; air thick with provocation, dinner…
“If by the time I’m forty, I haven’t found it, I give up,” Carlos said with a sigh as he tightened the belt around his left bicep.
“‘It?’” I asked. “What…fortune and fame?” We had been talking about getting our respective lives in order, at the time a favorite topic for both, if only in theory rather than practice.
“Nah, fuck that,” he said, as he found a vein on his forearm and slid the needle in, gently pushing in the brown liquid. “You know…inner peace. You know that voice inside our heads, the one you said you also have?”
Yesterday morning, on an expanse of red, barren soil, a small metallic creature with an invisible, intangible brain spun its blades for the very first time: NASA celebrated its first powered, controlled flight of an autonomous device on another planet: Mars.
The Ingenuity helicopter, a separate, modular component of the Perseverance Rover, passed its first test-flight with hovering colors, rising a valiant and elegant 9’8ft into the Martian air, hovered, and came back down this fine morning on earth. That’s right, folks: this fine morning on earth.
NB: The link above is a rather comical song about how I once got more than I bargained for with a guy I met on Tinder. My improv jam band, The Sneaky Cameos, got together and played over my lyric about it, just following each other and figuring out the song as we played along. The above recording is our very first take. Lyrics at the end of the story.
The world of online dating is rather like a masterclass in B-movie…
For those of you who enjoy listening to articles, I decided to create a non-AI, warm, organic audio version. The voice is mine, and so is the music. Enjoy!
Some years back, I was going through life with about the same enthusiasm of a tired, latter-day Elvis in Vegas, minus the stellar career and the riches. The idea of rising early, at five in the morning — to write, of all things — would have been unthinkable. …
When I got together with my four friends in the studio, all I had was this poem. Without any idea or plan, what you are about to hear is the result of complete improvisation and this is what came out. You can hear us fumbling into the song, and how it builds from nothing. Sometimes in life, the first takes are the best takes. Click link below to hear the results, and if it tickles your fancy, let me know in the claps or comment section below
Here I am, sitting in bed, and was just seized by the following ruminations, while trying to get to bed far too late. All my attempts at doing so seem to be completely sabotaged and bollocksed by my own inability to turn off my brain.
Through my writing, my attempt at understanding myself have become better and better this last year, especially in the last three weeks writing every day on Medium.
I cannot adequately describe the joy I have been feeling in watching my — as of yet small — dedicated community of fellow writers and readers unfolding piecemeal…