Tuesday, October 30, 2012

A Letter To New York

I read this in New York on the 19th of March this year at the start of a book signing/reading.

I hope you are all safe.

Dear New York, 

You are in your subways, where your earbuds whisper softly to each other. Where you are rocked to sleep, gently as the trains move, and you are part of some great everyone. So you are a city that walks on top of another city, a city of people dreaming, you put your foot down on dreams when you cross the street, your children play, on dreams. You go to work each day, on layers of moving dreams. You are pieces of life from subway to skyscraper. And I wish you could hear the way your voices sing like I hear them, but you can't anymore than I can hear what my voice sounds like. None of us have accents inside our heads. Our voices and words are water and tasteless and colourless because of how much of them we drink. 

Only other people can hear what we sound like. Tonight, thank you for being those other people New York. 



Monday, October 29, 2012

Here Then There

I am moving cities this week. Large boxes everywhere. Moving trucks and so on. I will do my best to be here.

I will miss you. Thank you for your time.

Friday, October 26, 2012

The Winter Child

In bright white snow, when everything sleeps.

And hope has left you lonely.

When all you ever remember about summer is how it ended.

I send hope back to you, wherever you are.

I hope you remember all the people you still have time to be.

I hope the little things in your life inspire you to do big things with it.

I hope you remember that summer comes every year and that the sun, is still sweet.

I hope you learn to hope again.

I, still, hope.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

The Story Can Neither Be Created Nor Destroyed

As you fall, remember that you are part of a beautiful story that did not start when you were born.

Remember that you are the universe exhaling, a breeze waiting to blow across a field of tall grass.

Remember, you are part of a beautiful story that did not start when you were born.

As your body cuts through the air, think of only the things that made you smile, the people that made you love, the ideas that made you strong.

Remember, those things will never happen again but they cannot unhappen.

Remember, you are part of a beautiful story that did not start when you were born.

Remember, what you felt can't ever be taken away.

Remember, you are part of a beautiful story that did not start when you were born.

And it will not end when you die.


Wednesday, October 24, 2012

The Importance Of Correctly Numbering Things

There are more grains of sand in the soles of your shoes than you will be given winters to dream or summers to make those dreams real.

And there are more stars in the sky than there are grains of sand on Earth.

We live in a universe so big that a dying star, in the greater scheme of things, is as significant as spilled milk or an unkissed kiss. In an infinite amount of time, everything that can be forgotten, will be forgotten.

In infinity, spilled milk and dying stars matter the same.

And if you're just someone brushing your teeth late at night or you're a planet breathing your last breath as you disappear into a black hole, everything you do matters just the same. Every breath you take is as important or unimportant as the sun in the sky or the moon in the night.

Scratching your ear, is a kind of miracle, depending on how you look at it.

Monday, October 22, 2012

The World Would Be Easier

The world would be easier if the homeless were all just lazy and all they needed to do was just get a fucking job.

The world would be easier if evil were a real thing, instead of just confusion, misunderstanding, miscommunication and misplaced desire.

The world would be easier if you could just be happy for what you had, while you had it. If you could eat memories like flowers to keep your heart alive.

The world would be easier if comfort didn't rest on the backs of the broken, if your swimming pool was dug by soft hands that never worked a day in their life.

The world would be easier if we all just got rich and famous and we were all each other's #1 fan.

The world would be easier if it were an automatic.

The world would be easier.

But it isn't.

The world is hard because it requires real human effort to make it turn.

The world is hard because you may wake up today but not tomorrow. And yet no one will accept "fear of death and a futile existence" as a reasonable excuse to miss work.

The world is hard because you will have to fight for the things you love or worse, fight the things you love.

The world is hard because the things you love will kill you.

The world is hard because it was made that way by thousands upon thousands of hard men and no one wants to admit we have no idea why we're doing the things we're doing anymore.

The world is hard because it's hard to forgive and even harder to forget.

The world is hard and you should just give up, right now. Just lay down and die. Nothing will ever be easier.

But, you don't.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

The Night Holds The Day So Softly

You own this hand now.
Because when I close my hand around your hand, I can feel your hand, feeling mine. And it feels the same.

Monday, October 15, 2012

The Sun Leaves The Earth

I am so selfish, so greedy and so spoiled.

How can I ask for one more day with you, when I've already had so many?

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

The Bandages Are Made Of Shadows

You and I both know, the dark doesn't make the bruises disappear.

It just makes them harder to see.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Intentional Dissonance

Intentional Dissonance is my new novel.

It’s a love story that takes place in the last city on Earth, after (and before) the end of the world.

There’s a man called Jon Salt, a doctor who wants to kill him or at least abuse a gift he has, a tree called Edward, a girl called Michelle, another girl called Emily who sells a drug that makes you sad (called Sadness) which Jon Salt is addicted to and a mute assassin called One Eye.

It also involves ghosts, Sylvia Plath’s diary and Kurt Cobain’s guitar.

If I’m really honest, it’s a book about what it feels like to fall forever.

So it’s quite complicated. But I’m happy and I feel like I wrote the book I wanted to write.

It should be available early December. Between now and then, every now and again, I’ll be posting different snippets from the manuscript in different places.

On I Wrote This For You.

Thank you for your patience and support, I honestly can’t wait for you to read it.

- pleasefindthis 

The Waiting Chair

If it hurts you, if not being who you want to be kills you inside, just close your eyes and remember

"Somewhere else, I'm something else.

Somewhere else, I'm something else."

And soon you will be here.

Soon, you will be you.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

The Language Stripped Naked

And I'm sorry I ever learned any words that make you cry.

I'm still doing my best to learn the ones that make you smile.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012


I'm taking a breather after finishing off my new novel, Intentional Dissonance. More news soon.

I miss you,