Skip to content

Category Archives: disciple updates

Notionally Colonnic – New Web Presence, Eels, Asses

Monday, May 17, 2010

We think each one will heave to and unload All good into our lives, all we are owed For waiting so devoutly and so long. But we are wrong: Only one ship is seeking us, a black- Sailed unfamiliar, towing at her back A huge and birdless silence. In her wake No waters breed or [...]

Also filed in revolting self-promotion | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (1)

Jerusalem Offertory: Nor Shall his Pork Sword Sleep in his Hand

Monday, February 15, 2010

Bring me my bow of burning gold! Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire! November 13th – shuffled sheepishly through Israeli immigration, enduring a 30-second staring down by an oddly Aryan young woman in army fatigues. Last time an attractive girl looked at [...]

Also filed in journeys | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (6)

Hopenhagen to Smelsinki: Piracy on the High Seas of Hoopla

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

It is a rare morning in the lifecycle of the agency that dawns with cause to be proud. Ordinarily it’s a matter of prying open encrusted eyelids to find oneself slumped in the wrinkly palm of last night’s barcalounger, empty bottles of King Shag Sauvignon Blanc scattered like bowling pins across the deep pile, fag-ends [...]

Also filed in advertising, revolting self-promotion | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (2)

Gerard Hopkins: The Manley Burden of Responsibility

Sunday, November 1, 2009

‘Enough: corruption was the world’s first woe. What need I strain my heart beyond my ken? O but I bear my burning witness though Against the wild and wanton work of men.’ Minutes from the Annual General Meeting of Julian Richards’ shareholders, backstage at their old haunt, the Gaiety in Times Square; it’s now an [...]

Also filed in Poetry, homily on homily, loss | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Comments (8)

Noah Sheldon: Nameneko is the New Bukkake

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

‘Our hunting fathers told the story Of the sadness of the creatures, Pitied the limits and the lack Set in their finished features; Saw in the lion’s intolerant look, Behind the quarry’s dying glare, Love raging for, the personal glory That reason’s gift would add’ What an unnerving and enchanting experience to come round of [...]

Also filed in advertising, revolting self-promotion | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Comments (0)

Love Again: Wanking at Ten Past Three – The Lovely Rambles

Monday, August 24, 2009

(cont’d from ‘Unsheathed, Perkin Lovely was a Ronnie Corbett Sausage’) ‘More likely they are his-and-hers avalanches of mouldering dumpling mix, with dentures from Minsk, matching unisex carrier-bag breasts and stained, swampy genitals. They’ll greet you at the front door of a tract house in Teaneck wearing each other’s underwear, their rabbi in the background humping [...]

Also filed in revolting self-promotion | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (8)

Unsheathed: Perkin Lovely was a Ronnie Corbett Sausage

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

‘ … was once fat, with great swathes of cellulite, folds in thighs and arms, blubbery, utterly hairless, cross-eyed with a massive hydrocephalic cranium, no teeth, nonexistent chin, lathered in spit-up and drool, an extremely small penis, no balls at all, pants full of wet yellow shit. Things have improved marginally since. Now have hair.’ [...]

Also filed in revolting self-promotion | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (4)

The Pube Bush Wild – Keats in Love, Miller in Nashville

Saturday, May 23, 2009

And so another languid excursion through the Italian homeland has run its course and we find ourselves pottering about the conservatory at Lickham Bottom (yes, we bought the Smithy’s Cottage) dabbing at the spots on our succulents. Once again we were thwarted in our efforts to attain a private audience with Pope Benedict, despite having [...]

Also filed in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (5)

Noah Sheldon and the View from Lickham Bottom

Saturday, April 11, 2009

The British are, in their own words, queer buggers. It all begins on the Virgin Atlantic Airbus with the ding-dong doorbell voice of somebody calling herself the Cabin Service Manager interrupting your search for the item on the in-flight entertainment menu most likely to make your neighbour shift uncomfortably in her seat (way-past-her-prime Meg Ryan [...]

Also filed in Poetry, gain, journeys | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (5)

All Flaxen was his Pole – Aubade for Chris Buck

Sunday, January 4, 2009

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. (Hamlet, Act IV, Sc. V) There are agents weeping, wandering the corridors of 609 Greenwich Street like a feral pack of Ophelias. Julian Richards, who can be easily identified by his cockle hat [...]

Also filed in Poetry, loss | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (11)