A warning, though... I am proud of what is here, but not because of quality, quantity, or any other yardstick that can be applied to them. Some of this is probably, almost surely, not even worth being used to manure a field, let alone see wide publication. But it is mine, and for that is worth being proud of. We all should do things we are mediocre at, or bad at - provided that we feel good for doing it, regardless of results.
Definitely Not Sartre... a bit of philosophy from
my younger days.
Bits and Bobs: some poetry and prose
My favoured format of writing are what I call 'columns'. They aren't necessarily newspaper columns - most are much longer than any newspaper would accept except perhaps in serialization. They aren't philosophy, they aren't poetry, yet they're not serious articles or expositions. They range widely on subjects, with some being fictional, some based on my life or that of others, and some are a bizarre synthesis of the two. They differ in format from one to another, but all reflect my views on life and some of the absurdities of it.
A Romance
Story, I Suppose - the story of a fateful Valentine's Day and how romance
can happen at the oddest times.
Me Dance, Never...
- Observations on my attendance of a ball in Newcastle and the characters we
were.
The Romantic Rules of Dating - A tongue-in-cheek
but sincere view of pursuing a girl for the romantically challenged male.
This sketch was done in May of 1999, in Durham, England. The view is from that along the river path that runs alongside The Racecourse, the university's cricket ground, on the east side of town. It looks east, upriver as it flows towards the main part of town. The stairs on the very left leading into the river lead upwards to one of the College fo St. Hild and St. Bede's boathouses, while the fence separates the river walk from the Racecourse. At the time of the sketch, I lived in Fisher House, one of the graduate halls lying just on the other side of the Racecourse in the Parsons Field Complex.