I was asked to write a piece recently in answer to the question: “What would you tell your twenty-year-old self?”
Now, I’m not one for looking back. Don’t get me wrong, I love to reminisce about the past, look at old photos, etc. But when it comes to things like “What would you have told your younger self?” I balk. It’s too easy to get lost down a blind alley of regrets, of “couldas, wouldas, shouldas”. It can be debilitating and can stop you in your tracks. I prefer forward motion.
Continue reading Never Apologise, Never Explain
by Derek Flynn
I heard a Ruts song on the radio last night and thought of you. You were an exchange student, only over here for six months. We met when I was busking on Grafton Street. I sang “Simple Twist of Fate” and you said it was your favourite song. You went to throw me some money but accidentally threw me a dollar.
Continue reading In a Rut
This is one of many, many pieces that will be written about David Bowie in the coming days, weeks, and months. And, as such, even as I type this, it feels slightly redundant. But, at the same time, it feels absolutely necessary – as contradictory as that sounds. And that’s why I think so many pieces will be written about him: because so many people feel that it’s necessary to say something. Because we’re all feeling this profound sense of loss for someone most of us never met. Someone who has no connection to our lives. How can you feel this way about someone who had no connection to your life?
Continue reading He Was Not Of An Age But For All Time by Derek Flynn
I dreamt of Samsimeon again last night. He occupies my every thought now, night and day. And each time I think of him, I feel myself move one step closer to my own death. Not that it frightens me; it’s been a long time coming and any fear that death once held for me has long since dissipated.
Continue reading Memories of Chaos by Derek Flynn
The city was larger than Alan remembered. He had wandered its old, European streets for three days and still felt he had only grazed the surface. It had been so different when he and Marion had come here on their honeymoon. They had only stayed for a week (that was all the time he could take off from work) but they knew almost every side street and alleyway by the time they left.
Continue reading Gods in the Machine