All art is useless

In 1890, a fan wrote to Oscar Wilde asking him to explain a sentence in the preface of The Picture of Dorian Gray : “All art is quite useless”. How could a writer say something so callous? Did it not put to question his own existence? Wilde’s reply was both relevatory and magnificent in its brevity. “A work of…

The forgotten gift

You have a gift. Use it well.

​Many years ago, when you were young and green and the world was your oyster, someone said those words to you.

Random musings on a Monday morning

So here I am, lazing in bed, writing nonsense because I have 200 things on my to-do-list and don’t know where to start. Some random observations at this moment: 1. I’ve just realised I’m not a very nice person. Now if you knew me in person you might disagree, but believe me, it’s all an act….

A little whimsy

I sat there, forcing myself into that uncomfortable space.  Putting my phone away, feeling that “incredible loneliness”, as Louis put it. Listening, really listening, to my despair. That Crillon cake was perfect. And the tea too. It’s good to be able to feel it; that aloneness. You can almost hear them, those unhappy thoughts, wailing as…

To poetry and all things sublime

Our poetry is the last dreamy song sung in haste by a head on the rails listening to the rumble of the approaching train before the steel crushes its thought. – Farewell, by K. Satchidanandan

Why do we blog?

Ok, so ten thousand people on the big bad Internet have answered this question, in words more eloquent than I can ever churn. But I need to answer, because in this case, the only answer that matters to me is mine. I blog because I love words, and fancy myself as a bit of a…