I had a dream one night about finding a homeless man drowned in a fountain in the middle of a London tube station. I remember watching everyone around me pass like ghosts while I looked at the man in the water and screamed for help. No one heard me and by the time the police came to see him, I was all ready drifting towards being awake. I found ( Read more... )

Three days ago, Richard Marek's death had been put into print. The sky had darkened considerably in the time that it had taken the news to reach their apartment walls, but when it had, neither of them were terribly surprised. Oliver sat near the window as rain hammered against its pane and attempted to read the paper that he had opened in order ( Read more... )

"Public Justice and German should never go together, unless you're a Nazi ( Read more... )

I keep remembering the way that glass looks from the outside when you're in the back seat of a car; how it reflects the sunshine and the tree branches when you go at a break neck speed down the road. I keep remembering what it felt like to go on vacation to Wisconsin in the back of our old Oldsmobile -- how I would keep my fingers at the very edge ( Read more... )

If you want to read everything in this journal, you have to set up one of your own to be added to my friends only list. If you don't mind reading what I put up here without the filter, then that's what you'll see.

Starting in the middle is ususally easier.

I am only writing as a prompt. I feel as though I need to prompt myself back into the world of the living as I’ve been so creatively dead for quite some time. My birthday is coming up. The end of the semester is coming up. My life in London is coming to a close before it even began. I feel choked, anemic and wheezy almost - and still? I feel so ( Read more... )