K E V I N J A C K S O N

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I started at seven and it's five in the afternoon and what have I done? Anything? I've walked and talked, heard the names of faceless folk I will meet and shall have to deal with.
This other-town-than-mine gossip is a morass. I can't possibly keep up and it is suddenly apparent that different people have the same name, or possibly a name once grasped sinks me over my boots when, too late, that name refers to entirely different people.
Gossip, the exercise machine for the tongue, walking-talking… Continue

. . . I'm eating soup and from wanting to understand 'everything', to wanting to explain 'everything' I see the impossibility of either and want to sloug… Continue

I've been pondering a blog post for ten days or so.
I haven't posted for ages and 'the pressure' is getting to me.
Blog Blank. No Blog. Blog guilt!
Can this be true? Can I really be stressing out on this?

Yes.

'This state of affairs' I think, 'is not good.'
Reviewing my jottings over the last weeks they reveal lists of 'to do'-s, and moans.

Moans about avatar and atavar.
What are they? Which to use? When and Why?
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There is a frisson around submitting work to an open entry art exhibition. Perhaps 'sweet' describes it, or humbling, or grim. It could be 'blithely optimistic', desperate or just brutally professional.
If my rec… Continue