I’ve no time to write (or rather re-write and revise and flesh-out) recently so this here’s something I was going to scrap or revise for another time…


– Stay in the car and off the border road, Mr OECD, your suffering is invalidated here.

– But decline, but nuance, no ounce heavier than another-

– No ounce heavier than another? Haw haw, Mr OECD, the Global South asked for your joke book this Christmas, the inocentes, from the merry pranksters, but their rainforests, you know, were, you know, gone. You’ve kissed the feet of John the Bapiste, bought off the militias from laying siege to your shipping container and pinned the supreme 150 year-old dutifully to your left breast?  You’ve hidden trade unionists and your Orientalist friends under the stairs, denied shaking hands with your master, hand behind back for what seemed like a 1000 years…his leather boots pressed on…?

– …

– Stay in the car Mr OECD, your suffering is no good here.



Pedestrian Paragraphs for 25.11

Currently working on an essay on Ideology and its place in Literature and Language (if any). Progress is slow. Knocked these unrelated (but always related?) paragraphs off this afternoon.




The need she holds for him to excel is itself the result of her own belief her own parents inoculated in her that she needs to be perfect. And their hegemonic conception of the word, like an aspirational fortress in the sky. Must it be essential to the idea of belief or judgement that there must ideals or standards to upheld?

The same true of his mother’s cloying intensity for and disappointment in her own son is the root of his neurosis. He was no dreamy sufferer, not a victim but a self-serving sneering individual afraid that the networks of people would find him  guilty, less of nothing than the hard work and metastasis of  discovery in labs or archives but more of a kind of dilettante conversation, a monologue with himself in the après-truth coffee house.

Compounded by an absence of a patriarch, much of what he accomplished so precociously been done in the eyes of a man who was no longer there to see it. Not for self-enrichment or ‘nobler’ thoughts, just to succeed and survive. Held in purely Darwinian parentheses.

Now that success had come in quantities and of a kind that his father had never dreamed of this conflict, far from being assuaged seemed to grow more intense and consuming. The message seems plain, even nuts-and-bolts pedestrian: leave at the right time.

‘Daydreams again?’