Thursday, 24 November 2011


I’m an average middle-class, middle-aged woman.
I do courses in reiki; no one can make me believe New Age creeds business greed’s responsible, in part, for the drainage of my income.
My grown up children, Zak and Zoe, both got degrees from minor universities,
But economic adversity’s the reason they are unemployed.
Zoe is married to a website designer, Zak just split up with a girl called Chloe.
Zoe has twin girls and an autistic son; it’s fashionable these days for families to have one.
I divorced from my ex-, Digory, five years ago.
Sometimes I have casual sex and sometimes I feel low.
I’ve joined lots of groups but don’t always go.
I like courses and workshops that foster ongoing processes of internal navigation,
As I continue on my journey to find myself.
I find each day has a precious moment of self-discovery, which I record in a notebook.
I share these personal insights at my feminist mentoring sessions on Wednesdays.
I have good friends and we share the same interests and outlook on life.
We do voluntary work in the women’s shelter, which I find most rewarding.
Some of the terrible, shocking things that other women have gone through are worth recording.
Rapes and beatings are commonplace experiences at the shelter’s meetings.
I feel I owe these less fortunate women my empathy and support—ALL men are rapists, but luckily I haven’t been caught.
I try to help them to not feel they are victims, which is terribly important.
Or so I’ve been taught.
Women must refuse to be intimidated by men, only then can we be free and all my friends agree.
We are all strong individuals, my friends and I.
Some men find that intimidating and I can see why.
That explains their hostility.
Lately, Zak has been feeling depressed and begun talking to himself.
I’m slightly anxious about his mental health.
My friend, Abscess, blames his flat’s feng shui, so I suggested to him making some changes over a bowl of chop suey.
Avoiding my eyes, he mumbled incoherently through his straggly beard.
It was very weird and the flat stank to high heaven.
But Abscess says it’s a chakra realignment issue and I’ve known her since I was seven.
Atleast Zoe is happy, but Colin, her husband, lets her do too much.
He uses her like a servant, a seminal spittoon and for a crutch.
But, like me, she’s a very strong woman and I know—when she keeps in touch—she’s not exactly being oppressed as such.
Too weak to be a tyrant, Colin is an emotional sponge instead.
It might work with Zoe, but he can’t get inside my head.
Which explains why, when we meet, his face reveals his dread.
Abscess thinks he’s an emotional leech with bipolar affective disorder,
She told me on the beach the other day when, I’m afraid, I bored her.
She hugged me tight in her strong, tattooed arms, telling me it was alright as I cried on her supportive shoulder.
‘Don’t be sore with me, Abscess,’ I pleaded. ‘All this stress is making me feel so much older.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she insisted. Then, she said, ‘I’m chilly.’
It was true it had got colder.
We shared a bottle of vodka in her flat and she gave me a tarot reading after that.
She’s well suited to reading the cards, but I can’t remember what she said.
I know it made me feel much better and we ended up in bed!

Monday, 14 November 2011


NEW DRAWING, STAGE ONE, a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
Colour to be added. Watch this space.