About my Creative Writing

Every now and then I have the intention of travelling to places on public transport but I forget to get off; instead I ride around the city and get lost in writing psychedelic love stories. I eat gorgeous fruit whilst doing so and I feel like the bright tranquil darkness that is caught between the sunrise and the moonset. Sometimes after writing I feel emotionally slutty but I nevertheless remain aglow with nascent dawn light that backlights every cell in my body.


In the Creative Writing category you will find bits and pieces of my one tru luv – fiction. I am working on a few books at the moment and I intend to self-publish these as they arise. There are dribs and drabs of these stories in here. What follows is a brief outline of each novel, in order of which stories are more formulated/’almost there’ to vague ideas and jottings:

A creative retelling of my state-sponsored Eastern Bloc nightmare: what started off as a cathartic documentation about the time I was incarcerated in Poland has evolved into a hallucinatory descent into madness and the long journey back to normality. It draws on my family histories of institutionalisation and my predisposition to paranoia and anti-social shit-stirring. Conspiracy theories became reality as reality became ungraspable, and sleep deprivation, starvation and adrenal fatigue connived to let nightmares play out in the daylight hours.

A psychedelic love story: a romantic, erotic and surreal tale of two people who fall in love with each others’ psyches in the noosphere. I am describing the ways they connect with each other – through dreams, through drugs and through trance – and their mutual longing to make it happen in the ‘real world’. This story has its roots in the last (and most beautiful) time I was in love; it grew out of exchanges between He and I and is being fertilised with memories of my time exploring England’s hidden reverse. As within so without, I’m still not sure how the ending will turn out.

My interpretation of the classic fast n filthy great Australian road-trip novel: inspired by my time living in the bush and walking country, it is populated by the bizarre characters I encountered on my travels. Most importantly, it is a look at how sex, drugs and rocknroll are used to relieve the boredom of living in racist and backward country towns – the necessary domestication and shrinking of a wild and progressive Self to fit safely into a small and conservative world. This one’s based on my brief but whole-hearted regression into my previous lifestyle, and the grotesque and engrossing consequences that underscored my time out bush.

A story about an Old woman who is sung into a tree before she is ready to go: she haunts the river every night, eternally searching for tangible evidence of her lost love’s memory – an obsession she held in life as well as afterwards. It explores the nighmarish experiences of the Clever women and men who were responsible for her premature death, and is a critique of our society’s fear of the Elderly, of death and of people who don’t quite fit in.

My vision of the post-apocalyptic Earth: heavily inspired by my Mum’s, Dad’s, Uncles’ and Aunties’ stories, as well as the worlds of Mad Max, Stone and The Road. My prophecy about life after the breakdown of society involves motorbikes, heavy metal and anarcho-monarchist cultural structures. Equal parts paranoia, wishful thinking and practicality, this may or may not be the blueprint for our continued survival on this planet. The idea emerged from an ongoing series of dreams I’ve had:

When I return to the land of my bones, I shall appear as a skinhead monk with flowing tattered robes of grey and black. I shall drive a weathered Greyhound bus and recruit followers to take part in the Revolution. All I encounter shall ride with me to Babylon, and we shall instigate the Apocalypse with s/words and passion. Prepare thyselves for the End of Days. Namaste.



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