Scribbled Senseless

I have just nearly choked to death. I had just come in for the night and was grabbing a bite, and I just took too big a bite of something and couldn't quite swallow it. The trouble was, I couldn't get it from the back of my throat, and it just slid back towards my oesophagus again. It couldn't go forward, couldn't go back and it started oh so slowly blocking off my airway. I was, in essence, slowly going to choke to death. So, yeah, then I was, like, choking to death and stuff. I felt my airway start to obstruct, my breathing started to get harder, and my epiglottis kinda fluttered to try to shepherd the blockage the other way. What was funny was that I was still very detached from the situation. I felt myself start to panic, and I distinctly told myself "No, stop panicking, this is ridiculous. You're not going to die on the kitchen floor at 20, without doing anything with your life. I mean, YOU'RE not going to DIE at 20. It just won't do." ...

They went to the woods to live more deliberate, To crawl in the rocks like a bear or a hermit And take on new names, new goals and new hearts, Discarding their old lives, dropping the old parts. The lies, the work, the boredom, the struggle, The same same same dull ditchwater bubbles As they drown and choke on their corporate lives In their suits and their ties that will eat them alive. So into the woods is where they escape Through the trees, rushing by in their coats and their capes. But I don’t need their counter to all that they hate. If they want it, then give it them, see what they make With their yawp and their captain and blind bitter rage, As they snarl and they rattle the public school cage That only exists because they put it there, Not to taunt or to tease or to hurt or to scare. If they’d only let go, let it pass them on by, Not to fester and moulder and quietly die, But to dream and to dance in the peace of their heads, T...

I walked into a coffee shop. It was nothing special, just a place to stop And rest my feet As I walked down the street. Besides, I had nowhere to go And nothing to show For myself. And as I entered, Spent, and rendered Mute by the blast of warm And contrast of calm All the hairs of my arm Stood bolt upright, Looking for all the world like they might Take up arms and fight Or take flight in spite, Run away in the night Like cowards. Cos in that instant, I saw a bloke, Clearly coffee-and-rum-soaked Standing on one side of the room With an air of doom and gloom Wrapped round him like a cape, Trying desperately not to shake For fear of weirding out the customers. He was sat on a bar stool, Under a light, trying to look cool And not act too much of a fool, And I don’t mean to be cruel But there was just something about Him, his mouth all thin And puckered, be...

Recently, my father got married again, and in his finite wisdom asked me to be his best man. Thankfully, the speech that goes with such duties didn't go as awfully as I expected it to, and so for those who are interested here is the text of the oration. Hope you enjoy it: When Dad and I first talked about this speech, I asked him if he wanted to write it himself, to make sure that it wasn’t inappropriate in any way. He blithely assured me that he trusted me, and that I was grown up and sensible enough to write something that wouldn’t embarrass or offend anyone. It was very heartening, that kind of faith. Sure enough, a couple of months later it came up again in conversation, and there was an awkward pause before he said “yeah, about that, I’m gonna need to read that speech before you give it”. Isn’t that touching? It’s a very strange phenomenon to be asked to be best man at your own father’s wedding. For a lot of people, it’s not really an opportunity they get, and I’ve foun...