Archive for September, 2013


::::this honour fucks::::


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::::walk the line::::


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::::exit:strategy::::


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::::linger::::


The fragrant air, soft and teasing
Curls upon itself and drifts.
You let it into our lungs in tiny delicate breaths,
Worrying.
It will change you forever.
Doesn’t take long for those breaths to get deeply.
Now you cloak yourself in the sweet
Vapours that cling to yo like morning dew.
You shiver, not cold but delicious,
Let them seep beneath your skin,
Mingle with your blood,
Pass beyond
Those membranes you hold so dear.
You only risk losing that which you wish you could but discard.

::::but to taste::::


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::::lightening bottle::::


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::::Cali B @ audio::::


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::::glasgow hip hop battle final::::


I have a knack for ending up randomly at hiphop nights. Here’s the final from the battles at one in audio from yesterday evening. Was a sweet night.

::::die strange children::::


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::::shadow:form number 3::::


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I come for the coffee.
See, this place has phenomenal brew, beans to make your eyes spin. I’d walk over broken glass, I swear, feet covered in lemon juice, for just a sip.

Because it’s an art. Alchemy of the black aroma. Takes skill, a bit of hands on finesse.

My first introduction to Avenue G came under less than auspicious circumstances. I was homeless and trapped in a terrible spiral of hopelessness. Well, maybe i’m over egging things but, you know, circumstances were in a state of sucking. Now, you might think Briars road in the affluent west end is a weird place for someone who is homeless to be kicking about but there’s a hotel around the corner on great western road that puts us transients up on behalf of social services. I’d scored a room there through luck more than anything else as they tended only to take women. Naturally, I wanted to spend as little time as possible sat in my room mulling over my situation as possible so I took myself off for a wander.

This is how I stumbled upon Avenue G.

A disclaimer. I seriously love coffee. I love how it smells, how it tastes, how it makes me feel. The good stuff is orgasmic to me. I’m getting shivers just thinking about it. If it wasn’t so socially acceptable I’d probably be made to join some 12 step programme. Not that I would, but they’d certainly try.

There was a chalk board outside the cafe. It proclaimed manna from heaven. It spoke in language that made my tongue loll out of my mouth, like some drooling junkie. It caught my eye to be sure. So in I went.

I cannot begin to describe to you, through the feeble instrument of words, how it felt to be sitting outside Avenue G with a cup of their finest americano and a cigarette watching the world roll by. Suddenly, all was right. All was good. My troubles like ice melted away against the wisps of steam that rose from its obsidian surface.

From then on I was an acolyte of their gospel of awesome coffee, making regular pilgrimages to sup at the Altar of caffeinated goodness. Lucky for me I landed in maryhill, but a shortish walk to briars road, which certainly made these little missions less of a hassle. Sometimes I would be caught out by their closing time of 7pm which has forced me elsewhere, which happily also does awesome coffee. Not quite as good but still great. That place is, however, the topic for another post. Last time I was there they were playing a Beach Boys CD which had me tapping my table and singing along as I sipped my bliss – hence the name of this post.

So, to recap, Avenue G has the best coffee in Glasgow. Trust me and you shall not be disappointed.

Oh, they also do food. Menu looks pretty good.


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always lovely to see that something i’ve written is popular with you guys and with The Past Tense Kids getting 10 likes since last night i guess it qualifies.

Is actually part of a longer piece written for an awesome performance night here in Glasgow, composed in note form on index cards whilst bimbling around Cardiff in an extremely intoxicated fasion with a very good friend of mine then stitched together in longform inside a notebook during which it receieved considerable revision. It went through one more

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::::flower blossom::::


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::::the past tense kids::::


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You know the past tense kids? Gone on sugar puffs and fairies they were;
Used to own this town.
Now they half life.
Shuffling the pavement,
wearing out the rubber in their converse all-stars.
Turning corners like pages.

::::the stains of thought::::


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