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Category Archives: Non-fictions

Note to my biographer

For the record: that page I’ve turned down – 102 – in the Alain de Botton paperback (the one with the Cambodian price sticker) is to mark the linguistic curiosity of the author’s ‘goo-goo gaga’ [inconsistent hyphenation of onomatopoeia]; not the stuff about Eric – the protagonist – and his alleged emotional coldness.

Couched

I am a textbook case of every neurosis to affect the 30-year-old male. Which is to say I think I am entirely normal.

hatched.

Don’t count your tachyons before they are

Criticism, summarised

Some people liked Stravinsky for being Stravinsky. Others did not. What can you do.

Tragedy defined

A beautiful girl eats chips with her mouth open. ‘The average age of everybody…’ she begins.

To the BBC stringer who took my picture without asking (and then demurred over sending me a copy)

Well, I guess we’re even now, huh?

Love not(e)

A. I love you. B. Fuck you.

To a girl I once dated who thought herself smarter than me (BA Oxon., BA Oxon., MA Cantab.) and who ‘put me on to’ Philip Roth

I am reading The Breast and thinking of you.

Summer of ’98

I remember that summer as being of great importance. Or, rather: I remember that summer – and that seems important.

Ever young

– If you die young enough, you see everything. – And yet, dying old, you still haven’t seen enough.