I almost never leave a book unfinished. My logic is that if I have already committed to reading 100 pages I may as well just continue even if I’m not enjoying it because maybe it will get better; this has only worked out once with Life of Pi. I have been told that as I get older I’ll do this less and less because I won’t want to waste time on books I don’t enjoy but for now I thought I would dedicate some words to those books I didn’t finish, I may have given up on them but I’m sure they are someone’s favourites.
It won’t be news to any of you that I am not a theatre critic so don’t be expecting some in-depth review of the writing and the acting that I was lucky enough to enjoy on Saturday night – this is more just about the group and the evening. If you haven’t been to or heard of The Brink before its a community cafe and Liverpool’s first dry bar, which does make it’s location a little ironic as it is a stones throw away from the bulk of Liverpool’s clubs, bars and nighttime spots. Continue reading Liverpool Playwrights at The Brink
So, I am painfully aware that I haven’t been consistently updating this blog twice a week like I used to but to be honest life has just been getting in the way. Some good things are keeping me busy like having more hours at work and also taking on some more responsibilities but some not so good things have had an impact on my life in the past couple of months. That doesn’t mean anyone should worry about me though, I’m okay. This just means that instead of trying (and failing) to get a blog post out every Wednesday and Sunday I will only be posting on Wednesdays for the foreseeable future. This means a mixture of cultural stuff, writing stuff and maybe some coffee stuff! I hope all of you who enjoy reading my posts will appreciate the fact that by doing this I’ll be producing more entertaining and generally just better content instead of focusing on trying to get something out at the ‘right time’.
Look out this Wednesday for a new post and I hope you all stick with me through this new posting schedule!
On we go to a new diary; it’s very pink, fluffy and still smelling of the perfume I covered it in because I wanted to be like Marty in Grease when she is writing the love letters to her many boyfriends. Although, it is interesting that I picked something with “Femme” written on the front when I have bought 2 t-shirts in the past month that have the same word printed on them – guess this is how you start finding your identity when you’re growing up. Despite the fact that I seemingly thought that having a more ‘sophisticated’ looking diary meant that I was much more mature now and much less embarrassing I’m afraid that this particular volume is probably going to be the worst in terms of cringe. Enjoy!
How do you mourn a place or a moment that has all too quickly passed you by? How can you express the loss of a piece of yourself that no one saw?
You hold on to that feeling of home; occasionally neglected but never left long enough to wither. You tell yourself that you lived, really lived in that time. You replay the best and sometimes the worst comes crashing through that picture. You still miss it and long for it, knowing that merely the memory is not satisfying enough. To live it all again, to be so wild knowing the security that would wait for you at the end would be an all too perfect retreat from now.
When will you find that new place that fits so neatly into the blankness that has spread into the corners of your life? Wait – it will come.
This week, I was lucky enough to visit a new city in a new country; Lisbon. The original plan for my first holiday of the year had been a trip to Amsterdam (finally) but owing to the nature of booking so late and during peak holiday season it was a little out of my price range so Amsterdam is just going to have to wait for me a little longer. However, all was not lost as myself and my friend, Yvie, landed on Lisbon as a place we both wanted to visit so at the end of last month we booked ourselves flights and an Airbnb for a little 5 day holiday. Continue reading Lisbon: A strange but endearing city
I often think about
The nettle stings on your legs
when I pushed you from my lips.
I didn’t want anyone to see us
Locked together, in love.
Even then I was afraid of what bound us
and even now
I’m still thinking about then
and your prickled calves
hands shaking but my mouth laughing
and all of my body was wrecked.
Tense and stretched from my stomach
that pull, the tether that connected us.
But now I don’t feel you