Love is a Four Letter Word

Don’t tell me what I don’t want to hear… I’ll just turn it into something else.

“Part of man’s frustration is that he has become accustomed to expect language and thought to offer explanations which they cannot give,” Alan Watts proposes in his classic book The Wisdom of Insecurity, which is still as relevant today (if not more so) than it was when first published in 1951. Continue reading

Self-Love: It’s a Rort.

“We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It’s a dream already ended,” wrote Jack Kerouac in a letter to his first wife, found in The Portable Jack Kerouac. Continue reading

Letters to My Ex: What’s in It for Me?

The vast majority of the writers I have contacted about the Letters to My Ex anthology have embraced the concept right away: it’s about women and connection. The letters are written to an unnamed, often male recipient, but it’s not about men at all.

A friend recently suggested it might be best to spell out the ‘what’s in it for me’ factor. Since I’ve had a few people write to me asking about payment (there’s no payment), I’m going to address this perfectly reasonable question. Continue reading

Why I Hate Being Nice: Eckhart-Fucking-Tolle, Clementine Ford & The Fat Stinkin’ Elephant in the Room

I cringe when I look back on any writing I’ve done where I talk about being fairly content in life, “Mostly happy, more centred than ever.” I don’t cringe because it’s a lie. I cringe because it paints only a partial truth – I am MOSTLY happy. You must not forget the MOSTLY. It was a fucking long road to get to MOSTLY from RARELY. Why am I yelling? Continue reading

This is Water: David Foster Wallace on the ‘Self-Centredness’ of Life

“How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.” ― David Foster Wallace, The Pale King.

David Foster Wallace, American novelist and short story writer, is a person I was unfamiliar with until I recently heard his Kenyon College Commencement address, which took place in 2005. After hearing it, while I don’t agree with absolutely everything he said, I’m completely besotted. In the words of Emery Allen, “I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul.” Continue reading