10/01 Direct Link

Watch. A tall dark stranger is shuffling into the dull light of a lamp-post, the smoke from his cigarette curling upwards to mingle with the stars. Crouching, he starts to unpack his saxophone, metal straining together until its complete. He stands.


Glancing left and right. He crushes his vice, licks his lips. Then, his left leg shaking, he starts to play. The noise seems to be an affront to the emptiness, until the darkness finally starts to embrace it. Baker Street. Classic. Lights flicker on violently, protests are raised.

The man smiles. The half-humans stop.

Just listen
10/02 Direct Link

I have often had the romanticied notion of playing a fiddle on a roof in the middle of the night.

But then I start thinking about the practicalities.

What roof? Would there be enough light to see by? If it was windy, how would I stop the music being swallowed by the darkness? If it rained how would I protect those notes from crashing into each other and creating a dischord? Would people honestly be gladdened and delighted to wake up to the sound of a stranger creating honeyed music at night?

Besides, I would have to learn the fiddle.
10/03 Direct Link

I was on the train this morning. A trumpet case was sitting forlornly on a seat. It was well loved brown, fraying at the corners, covered in stickers from all across the globe. It made me quite sad. Who would leave this beautiful tool, instrument of the angels alone to travel endless underground. I considered liberating the trumpet from its cage, presenting it to the world once again, but the sight of this lonely creature cemented my bones with depression, to the point that movement was impossible.

But the worst thing?

The forgotten trumpet was better travelled than I was.
10/04 Direct Link
Have you ever truly listened to your body? Sat down, in the seeming silence, just to listen to you? The blood rushing through your head creates the pulse. Not wanting to be outdone, your heart starts to create complicted cross-rhythms. The clicks and creaks of bones add garnish to the music, whilst the gurgle and gloops add an almost comic element. You are a one-man percussion band. A miralce. You were created with a rhythm which is then naturally instilled in your body, creshendos and diminuendos reflecting your mood perfectly. Hear the beat, and dance to your music.
10/05 Direct Link
I have just witnessed a very stange thing. Up at 1:36 am (I suffer from insomnia) I was glancing outside, watching the world roll its shoulders and rouse itself from a deep slumber, when a rather... rotund man with a receding hairline ambled down the road, eyes closed, carrying a trombone and one of the most contented looks I have ever seen upon a human face. He carried on walking until he was standing facing the sea. He put the trombone to his fish lips and started to play. I just sat there in silence. Quite magical.
10/06 Direct Link
A very stange thing just happened to me. I have just woken up, facing the sea, playing the trombone. I do not even own a trombone, let alone know how to play one. After I had emerged from my dream-like state, I turned around and saw a dead street filled with nothing. I stare up at the forcibly bright moon and peer at the stars. After a short while, with nothing changing (it never does), I returned my attention to the sea. It's too calm for my liking. I toss the trombine towards its depths. Let the fish play.
10/07 Direct Link

As I was walking through Cambridge, my eye spied a homeless person. Immediately the guilt started to seep in. Constantly, without fail, I would pass by, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the suddenly interesting ground. Ignoring. The leigons of ghosts that sit still in the city. This particular homeless person propped up against a well-worn wall. Faded green jacket. Concrete grey stubble. Weather-worn, life-scarred face. It seemed he had two possesions. A harmonica and a child's teddy bear. After returning home, I sat and wept. 

10/08 Direct Link
I was arrested today. Punched a busker in the face.

I was walking down the street, quite calmly, when I came to bench, sat down, and started to close my eyes. I always find it easier to sleep when there is background noise. As my brick heavy eyes started to shut, this horrible, screeching noise penetrated my very being. This...idiot was attempting to play the violin. In reality, he was murdering the helpless thing. So I walked up to him, smiled, and punched him straight in the face. My hand hurt like torture afterwards. Never mind.  
10/09 Direct Link
I seem to be forgetting more things these days. At the ripe old age of sixteen my memory is deserting me, throwing up its hands and surrendering. Today, I forgot some homework, yesterday I forgort my revision sheet, tomorrow I will forget one of my friend's birthday. I sometimes get halfway through a sentence and lose what I was talking about. It makes me depressed that at sixteen I am already past middle age. To lighten my mood, I sat down at my piano. Music always makes the world seem pink and hazey.

I couldn't play anything.   
10/10 Direct Link
How am I feeling today?

Tepid. Neutral. Should I be a note on the piano, it would be a 'middle C'. If I were a colour, I would show up beige. If I suddenly turned into a country, I would be Switzerland. Nothing remarkable nor horrible has happened to me today. Everything is moving as it should be, not too fast nor too slow. Life is trundling along. By the time I have finished writing this, many unnoticeable and completely missable occurrences will have occured. In short, my life at the moment is quite dull.   
10/11 Direct Link
I met a one today. Not the one, but probably the closest I will get. I first discovered her during an open mike session at Ronnie Scots. Our hands touched whilst reaching for an amplifier. I looked up and before me stood a lady. Not a woman, nor a girl, but the epitome of refined class. My bass drum heart started to pick up pace. I stared. Encaptivated. It was most definitely not love at first sight, simply infatuation. Still. I was one of those moments that you want to bottle.       
10/12 Direct Link
Question Time... in scat

Dimbleby : 'So, Mr Prime Minister, shada do da bibble da da doo woop hia bebopoaroo?'

Gordon Brown : 'A, ah, very qood question, to which I would like to answer shadda shadda da beeb dop i qou shood. Furthermore, da da blab a shanna hanna ploea nee shadda hmmmmm.

Dimbleby : 'I believe we have a question from the audience.'

Audience : 'Ba da naana shadddddd brmm moopa deepa dponna?'

Gordon Brown : 'Shee da naa da habbaflesh noida.'

... and so forth.

If we are honest, it makes just as much sense, and is far more interesting to listen to.
10/13 Direct Link

Golden and opulent, intruging to the nacked eye. Quite literally poetry walking, a perfectly designed human being. An atlas. A gaint in stature and intellect, it is I whose shoulders you walk on. Artists clamber to capture me, musicians need to define me, poets try to understand me.

I am perfection.

You others should cower, feel inferior in the precence of such an almighty being. Never before and never will there be such a wonderous man as myself. 


Looking for a twenty-something female, ready for fun and possibly something more. If interested, call the number supplied now. 

10/14 Direct Link

I often write about music. It's much easier to understand than everyday life. I you see the note on the stave, you know exactly what note you need to play. You rest when instructed, vary your volume when told. Real life is so much harder. What people say is not necessarily what they mean. You have to really listen to understand their true intentions, what they actually want you to do. Humans a a swirling mass of contradictions, each with an own agenda, never reading of the same hymn sheet.
If only they came with scores.    

10/15 Direct Link
'... and that is where babies come from.'



'Why doesn't the stork get tired?'


'I mean, it has to constantly carry a baby around in its beak, flying all across the world in a matter of nanoseconds, never getting the opportunity to sleep.'

'...Its magical.'

'What happens if the stork goes on strike, like the postmen? Would it get fired, and then there would be a massive back lash of babies waiting to be born, but couldn't because the stork was complaining of poor working conditions?'

'...Go practice your trumpet.' 

Kids are getting much smarter these days.  
10/16 Direct Link
The most romantic thing someone has ever said to me?

I quote, 'I like you, even though you're spotty.'

Which is quite sad, in a way.

I was in year six, she was in year one. I used to help out after school with the 'little ones', trying to enterain them. It was during one of these after school activities that this small girl came up to me. She had invaded my personal space and was staring at me, disconcertingly. Then, she uttered the remark.

I truly loved her honesty.

I never saw her again. 

I wonder how she is?
10/17 Direct Link
I have just been reminded of another similar memory.

Again in year six, a group of year ones would follow my friends and I around all the time, small, annoying shadows that would never go away. In the end, we had to cut them loose, tell them 'Leave us alone!'

Later on, that same day, one of them came up to me and said 'Libby says you're the worst boyfriends she's ever had.'

Two thoughts entered my mind.

1. I was not her boyfriend

2. How many boyfriends has she already had?
I tried to explain things to her. She just sulked.
10/18 Direct Link
Why am I doing this?

Who honestly cares what I have to say about anything?

If a stranger came up to me in the street and asked,

'speak 100 words to me, it could be about whatever you want, just speak.'

I would give them a 'look' and carry on walking, hoping they didn't follow me. Nobody really wants to know what you are thinking, your life stories, the surreal situations you create.


Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why?
(Here endeth today's rant. Tommorows topic: The Sad State Of Society)  
10/19 Direct Link
Today the sun is shining, the birds are singing and the flowers are greeting me with a full blossomed grin.

Metaphorically, of course. Its nearly Christmas. The weather is terrible. Its raining and its cold.

I have been reading a lot of the entries of other people, and they all seem either severely depressed or deeply philosophical.   

So, now is the fight back, I am planting a flag for...


That's right ladies and gentlemen, today is simply a happy day. Stop analysing your life, refrain from the sarcastic comments, put away the put downs.

And just smile, smile, smile.
10/20 Direct Link

Imagine if a dog suddenly started philosophising about life.

Surreal moment developing

‘Indeed, you have thrown said stick, but, what would be the point of chasing? Expending all that energy in order to achieve one simple goal only to have your achievements tossed aside. Is our sole purpose in life simply to grant you humans a small amount of happiness each day? I say no! Throw of the shackles of human injustice and let us reclaim ourselves. No longer subservient. No longer the slave. No longer chocked by the physical and metaphorical do collar!’

Beware the puppy dog eyes.   

10/21 Direct Link

‘So, she asked me to the ball.’


‘What did you say?’


‘… Before you judge, I panicked.’


‘Come on, tell me.’


‘… I really didn’t want to go with her, keep that in mind.’


‘Shut up and tell me.’




‘I told her that I was mounting a protest.’




‘I am mounting a protest, meaning that I flatly refuse to go out with people.’




‘I am not going out with anyone until Tibet is free from its Chinese oppressors.’


‘You’re an idiot.’


‘Well, what would you have done in my position?’


‘Said no’


‘…That makes much more sense.’

10/22 Direct Link

I’m waiting for an idea to come to the rescue.


Some gleaming gem of inspiration that will help me fill this page with wondrous writing. Something that everyone will want to, need to read. Something for the whole wide world.


The start of a classic…


The idea that finally sparks the revolution…


The thought that creates a completely new genre…








Nope. Nothing. Zit.


Now this whole batch is ruined, never to be published. I will forever remain in obscurity, a talent never to be discovered.


Hang on.




One hundred words really isn’t that much is it?  

10/23 Direct Link

'So, what did you do this morning?'

'Debated the futility of life, looked inside myself and found nothing, thought far to much about far to little.' 

'...Why do you do this?'


'Whenever I try to start a proper conversation you always go philosophical on me. Never once have we a had a human, normal decent talk.'

'...I didn't know you felt like that.'

'Well, I do.'

'Do you want to try again?'

'Yes. Ok. Right. What did you do this morning?'

'Nothing much. You?'

'Nothing much.'





'It's nice to talk.'   

10/24 Direct Link
A dream

I was walking in my Church with the intention of asking someone to marry me. Evey few seconds I would pat my pocket to make sure I still had the ring. Whilst walking into the chapel, everyone was winking and nudging me with chesire cat grins on their faces. They really annoyed me, but I was so terrified that I refrained from throwing a sarcastic comment in their face. My whole body trembled as I sat, waiting to go to the pew. After what seemed a very short space of time, I stood to walk to the pew...   
10/25 Direct Link
A dream, continued

...Even as I was walking everyone still had the manic grins on their faces. Half way to the stand, I looked down and saw that I was stark naked. Before I had a chance to register that fact, I was covered in a pure white suit. I then had a minor panic attack about the ring, but it was still in the trouser pocket. Finally, on the stand, I looked and saw that the pews streched on for eternity. I cried out to the girl, 

'Will you marry me?'

To which she repiled, 


Relief flooded me.
10/26 Direct Link
After I had that dream, a thought struck me.

Even my subconcience thinks that I have no chance with girls.

How very depressing.

You would expect your own mind to support you, but it often stabs you in the back and leaves you for dead.

AAHHHHHH, unwanted flashback

Again, I was in year six. There was a rumour going around that someone 'faniced' me. Everybody knew there was no truth in it, but one of my friends wanted to make doubley sure I knew. He came up to me and said,

'No offence David, but why would anyone fancy you?'   
10/27 Direct Link
One day, I'm gonna leave this place. Pack my bag and sling shot out o' here. Never look'n back, goin' where ever my feet take me.

Shut up guys, I'll do it, I swear.

I'll go busking aroun' the world, serenadin' with my sax. I'll sleep with the stars as a blanket and a rock as a pillow. 

STOP laughin'. Your'all just jealous. 

I'll have non cares, no worries, a kind o' live-and-let-live, sai la vie attitude. An' maybe, I'll meet someone special.

Go'on, laugh, I don't care any more, I don't need youse. 



10/28 Direct Link
What I have always wanted to say to pointless questions

Pointless question 1

'So, what do you do?'

'I work in suicide watch.'

'...So you...'

'Make sure people don't kill themselves.'

'...How's it going?'

'Pretty well.'

Pointless question 2

'How are you?'

'Stop pretending you care, you just demean us both that way.'

Poinless question 3

'Haven't you grown?!'

'No, that's just a fallacy you entertain in order to try and create a conversation between us when, in reality, our relationship was dead years ago.'

The third one is a statement really.


Do I have a razor sharp wit, or am I a prat? 

10/29 Direct Link

I play chess. Not because I enjoy it (I do, yes, I'm a nerd) but because it reduces the chances of me contracting Alzheimer's disease. 

I play sport. Not because I enjoy it (I don't) but because I want to able to die in my bed, rather than due to a heart attack.

I work hard. Not because I enjoy it (soical expectations make me) but because I want to be able to provide for myself and my family in the furture.

Why am I taking life so seriously? What happend to my childhood? Why do I care about caring?  

10/30 Direct Link
'...therefore, we define our own reality by pain and suffering. We can never be proud of anything, as with pride comes satisfaction and contentment. Once we finally feel that we have achieved a state of happiness, we immediately try to self-destruct ourselves.'

'Why am I friends with you?'


'Your philsophising always seem rather...dark. You tell the truth, no matter how destructive it could be, you drive most people away from you and you can never quite grasp the concept of humam emotions.'


'Well, I'm asking.'

'I guess I'm more interesting than anyone else you ever meet.'

10/31 Direct Link

I have finally completed the first month of my 100 words experiance. Already, I am looking ahead to November. That batch will include:

1. More traumatic childhood experiances

2. A conversation between Santa Claus and a traffic warden

3. What would happen in penguins ever got organised

4. The occasional happy thought

5. Lots more sarcasm

6. Somebody has to die

I just bet you can't wait.

Nevertheless, on this final day, there is nothing left to right. Finishing is always the hardest disipline; a part of you just doesn't want it to end.

So long, until next month.