Saturday, 31 January 2015


Or another false dawn, more likely. I had a very vivid dream in the early hours of this morning, involving me and two people I know, but who, to the best of my knowledge, have never met each other. I woke at around 2:00, in the midst of the dream, fell asleep again, and found it continuing. Even the first time I woke, a story was brewing in my head, and when my alarm ended the dream definitively, it almost began writing itself. What has happened during the day, though, is that I've decided that it may be conducive to an unusual structure, which is what I'm going to try. I've written a chapter and a bit so far, and it seems to be flowing. Can I get it out of my imagination and into the world? On recent evidence, it's doubtful, but you never know!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Friday, 30 January 2015

One of those days, one of those weeks

Today hasn't been all that wonderful - up at 'stupid o'clock', tramping through the rain to the bus stop (although, at least, it hasn't snowed here, unlike many other places in the UK in recent days), work was 'meh' at best, the journey home traffic-ridden and frustrating, and, to cap it all, I nearly had a row with K (mainly my fault) when I got in. We kissed and made up, though, so at least that part of the day ended well.
But then, the week as a whole hasn't exactly been overflowing with fun and frolics - I had a very down day on Wednesday, the darkness inside threatening to drag me into its quagmire, which I was going to blog about, until I realised it was all stuff I've blogged about ad nauseum in the past, and stuff, moreover, that I've said I wouldn't keep harping on about, even though I can't seem to help myself sometimes. Oh well, only six more early starts to go, after which I get two (count them, two!) days off before launching into eight straight night shifts. Are we having fun yet?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Tuesday, 27 January 2015

Et in Arcadia ego

On the way out of 'worktown', on a particular bus route I used to use quite often, but don't so much since I moved to the flat, is a road with some very posh houses. I'd seen, as I came and went, a new house being built, and it was obvious it was going to fit in with, if not eclipse, its neighbours - it really is a very smart place. I was aware it had been finished and occupied some time ago, but what I hadn't noticed until today was what the house had been called. Arcadia. Immediately, I thought of the phrase in the title of the post, which I'd first come across in a documentary years ago, and which is usually translated as 'even in Arcadia, I am there', where 'Arcadia' represents some utopian society, and 'I' is taken to be death. A memento mori, in other words. A reminder that no matter how well-off, how privileged you are, you'll end up like the rest of us. Dead, gone, and, in short order, almost certainly forgotten. Even if you own a house like Arcadia.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Sunday, 25 January 2015

The morning after

I got ridiculously drunk last night, or rather the early hours of this morning, the worst I've been for quite a while. It wasn't in any kind of reaction to yesterday afternoon, though, it was simply an accident. I called in at my local for an hour or so on my way home from work, but it was when I got indoors that the damage was done. K and I ended up in the kitchen of the flat, having one of our 'anything and everything' kind of conversations, and there was a bottle of wine in the fridge. There isn't now! K was far more sensible, she just drank two mugs of tea. The worst part about it is that I've ended up wasting a good part of my day off today - I didn't wake up until almost 10:30, and I'm still drinking my breakfast (brunch?!) coffee as I'm writing this. I don't get that many days off, so to spend one of them in an alcoholic coma, and its aftermath, is pretty stupid, in all honesty. Never again - until the next time!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Saturday, 24 January 2015


OK, I'll admit that I sometimes go out and about specifically to look for eye candy, not, certainly of late, with any great degree of success most of the time. When I go to work on a Saturday afternoon, already one of my least favourite shifts, though, what I don't expect is for the eye candy to come to me, in a manner of speaking. Wrong again. One of my colleagues brought his son in with him, and I spent all afternoon, breaks apart, no more than a few feet away from the boy, given that his father was working the position next to mine. First impressions were that he was around 11, because he was a compact little guy, but as soon as I heard him speak, I revised my guess upwards - his voice was decidedly not 'little boyish' - and found out a little later that he's nearly 13, when I got the chance to talk to him for a couple of minutes. All in all, though, and although he was by no means 'drop dead gorgeous', it was still bloody torture having him so close for such a long time, trying to look without being obvious, but at the same time not wanting to look, or interact with him, in case I 'outed' myself. As always, all I can say is that anyone who thinks this is a 'choice' on my part simply doesn't understand, or, more likely, want to understand. It's a nightmare, but one where you never wake up.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

Nephelokokkygia's Greatest Hits

I've never pushed my other blog, Nephelokokkygia, preferring to allow readers to find and explore it of their own volition. It has been going almost as long as this main blog, though, and even those who have been kind enough to take a look might not have gone back to its earlier stages, so, at the risk of seeming self-congratulatory, I'd like to point people in the direction of what I consider to be the better work I've managed to come up with. The stories I'm going to list are in reverse chronological order - and there is a good reason for this, or so I think, anyway!

Beached - my most autobiographical story, based on my relationship with R, the first boy I ever fell in love with, when I was 17 and still at school. It is fictionalised, but there's quite a lot of my real life here.

Revenant - my favourite very short story. Inspired by someone who has been mentioned myriad times in this blog, but based on a dream rather than anything that happened in reality.

Fiction - written in one sitting on a Sunday afternoon/evening, in reaction to an event that had huge repercussions for a little corner of the internet which had, up to that point, seemed to be happy and friendly, but which was never the same again afterwards.

Hallowed - another story produced in one take, after a good few months when I'd written almost nothing. I didn't think that much of it at the time, but I've grown fonder of it since.

Jamie - inspired by a chance encounter with a boy who very much reminded me of another boy.

Lucid/Lucent - actually my first two stories of any substance, but republished in a more user-friendly format six months or so later. Lucent, in particular, is close to being, in my opinion, the best thing I've ever written. That is just my opinion, though!

Quaesitum - something a bit different, a story that started as nothing more than a title, a word I found on a website dedicated to unusual words.

Bridges - a story of redemption, maybe.

Discrimination - a little counterfactual, tongue-in-cheek thing, but one which, I hope (at the risk of sounding pretentious), might make one or two people pause and examine their attitude to others.

Confluence - not autobiographical in any way in terms of actions, but there's really quite a lot of me in the protagonist, certainly in terms of attitude towards the objects of my attractions. Approach with caution, please, if you're offended by intergenerational relationships.

Perihelion - in the top three, in my assessment, of all the things I've written. A lot of emotion went into this, and it was pretty much all-consuming in the weeks I was writing it.

Londoner - something almost completely different from anything else I've produced, a sort of sci-fi thing.

Optimal & Diary - another pair of stories not for the easily offended. Optimal was so called for a reason, which will probably be evident to anyone who's read any amount of this blog.

Alexandrine - and last, but certainly not least, my magnum opus, to date, anyway (and hence the order I've presented these links). A love story, nothing more or less. And, without apology, I adore it, and its title character, however masturbatory that might seem.

There are a number of other stories I could have mentioned, but most of them are more erotic in nature, and undoubtedly not to everyone's taste, as well as a lot of thoroughly substandard poetry, and even one visual art piece (Assemblage). Nearly five years worth of what might loosely be described as 'creativity'. Very loosely.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The big lie

If I hadn't been lied to by my former manager on the concourse of Plymouth station six years or so ago, told that there was a possibility of a job near home when that possibility never existed, I could've moved to a better paid job much earlier than I did, maybe soon enough to have rescued our finances, the finances which, ultimately, were the catalyst for the 29/2/12 phone call that destroyed everything. Yes, the secret, the 'real me', would still have been there, still an accident waiting to happen, but I could still have been married, still living in a quiet cul-de-sac in Cornwall, even the poor bloody cat might still have been alive. Why, for fuck's sake, couldn't he have told me the truth? I feel like going and finding him, and beating his head against a wall. Not that it would solve anything, except to get the screaming frustration out of my system. How fragile it all was, how easily it all crumbled to dust. All gone. Forever.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B