To Be Able To Have

I Am A Trembling Mess From Hip To Knee. There Is A Terrible Heat, A Looseness In My Innards That Makes Me Want To Dig My Fists Between My Thighs. It Is A Confusing Feeling - Somewhere Between Diarrhoea And Sex - This Grief That Is Almost Genital.

A Drinker Does Not Exist. Whatever They Say, It Is Just The Drink Talking.

I Am Interested In Levels Of Brain Discourse. How Articulate Are The Voices In Your Head? You Know, There's A Different Voice For The Phone, And A Different Voice If You're Talking In Bed. When You're Starting Off With A Narrator, It's Interesting To Think, Where Is Their Voice Coming From, What Part Of Their Brain?

There Is Something Wonderful About A Death, How Everything Shuts Down, And All The Ways You Thought You Were Vital Are Not Even Vaguely Important. Your Husband Can Feed The Kids, He Can Work The New Oven, He Can Find The Sausages In The Fridge, After All. And His Important Meeting Was Not Important, Not In The Slightest.

Sometimes I Will Spend Two Or Three Days Not Speaking To Anyone Outside Of The Immediate Family When They Come Home, And Then I Find That I've Been Emailing Like Fury. Once You Give In To That Silence, It's Quite Nice.