Acta non verba

I could not describe with any justice the feeling of sitting on that bench by the pier that afternoon and how much I’ve missed the rare days of not feeling like I had to go anywhere or do anything. It had rained two straight days before we made the trip, so the warmth of afternoon sun lacked the oppressive humidity that was common this time of year.

“I heard about your fishing rod. I’m sorry,” said a mockingly sorrowful voice from behind me.

Earlier, I had tragically lost my fishing rod, thinking I could not possibly catch anything in the twenty seconds it took to get up, go to the cooler, and grab another beer. But the moment I put the rod down and turned to walk away, and…

“I never really liked fishing anyway,” I said dryly.

She grinned and kicked my leg. “Move over. What are you doing here?” she asked as she sat beside me.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“By yourself?”

“Quite possibly the best way to do nothing.”

She eyed me.

“I like being by myself sometimes,” I said defensively.

She gave a shrug. We made small talk between sips of beer and caught up. Naturally, as two people who had recently gotten out of long term relationships, we ended up sharing breakup stories.

“We got in a huge fight. Probably the biggest I’ve ever had with anyone. He stormed out of the apartment, didn’t come back for the rest of the night. I woke up and went to work. We didn’t talk at all that day, not even a text. When I left the office and walked to my car, I saw something on my windshield. I thought it was a ticket at first, but it was a note, from him. It read, ‘I love you, no matter what.’ I dissolved into a puddle of tears.”

“Wow,” I said dumbly.

She smirked, “Well, he went and slept with his ex that night. So the ending kind of sucks. I usually leave that part out.”

It must have been the look on my face that caused her to burst out laughing.

“It’s fine,” she said after regaining her composure. “But yeah, that was probably the sweetest thing a boy has ever done.” She paused momentarily, “Which actually sounds pretty pathetic now that I think about it.” She laughed again, this time a little more wistfully.

“We do some pretty stupid shit when we get a little heart broken,” I said after a time. “A willing ex is usually a safe bet.”

“Safe. Easy. Convenient. Stupid.”

“Sometimes we just need someone to hold,” I shrugged.

“Sounds like you’ve done the same?”

“Me? Jesus. Fuck no.”

“Really?” I could hear the doubt in her voice.

I smiled, “I’ve thought about it, but I usually find some place quiet and agonise for hours about it like a real man.”

She burst out laughing to that. “Like you’re doing now?”

I coughed. “What? No.”


“I’m thinking happy thoughts,” I beamed, showing all my teeth.

“Such as?”

“The awkward goodbye.”

“And what exactly is the awkward goodbye?”

“Two people meet. There’s instant chemistry. Instant attraction, you know? They start hanging out. There’s no clear definition as to what they are yet, so you’re okay with the hugs and the quick pecks on the cheek. Soon, they don’t seem to last long enough. The goodbyes get drawn out. After a while, they start looking like two retards who should be walking away from each other but don’t.”

“That sounds kind of sweet.”

“It’s terrible.”

“But you said it was a happy thought?”

“I know.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s not supposed to.”


One moment, one chance.

The warm reverb of Portishead’s Roads kicked in. I sank deep in my seat, closed my eyes and thought about how there’s nothing like the way the summer night air feels on your skin after a downpour. It hit me that it’s been almost 20 years since this song came out. I wasn’t old enough to know what good music was yet, wasn’t old enough to know about a lot of things — I guess I still feel that way.

I liked the way the intermittent crescendo of passing traffic combined with the fuzzy bass lines of one of music’s greatest anthems. I watched the last remnants of the evening’s rainfall slide down the windshield and into the oblivion. I could have drifted off right there and then, but I’ve always had this compulsive fascination with thinking about the little things — not to mention sleeping in a car is a great way to make sure you have a terrible morning after.

I thought about how it’s always been the little things that moves me. I’ve never been much for the big picture — too impersonal, too far away, too hard to touch. I’ve always preferred the intimacy of the moment. I love the way it rests just deep enough in your skin that you can’t shake it off. I love and hate the chaos of not exactly knowing what follows. Mostly it’s because I’ve always felt that the big picture rarely changes. But the moments, man… they never remain the same.

And I guess people are like moments too. They don’t repeat. They are just as transient and impermanent and can hit you like a sack of bricks when you least expect it, and the really special ones can crawl so deep under your skin that you know you’ll be carrying a small piece of them with you wherever you go. And once in a while, you meet one who’ll do the same for you. And I guess that’s the moment when the big picture changes.


The end of the line.

A late dinner. A good conversation. A shower. A cool breeze through damp hair as you sit out on the porch after midnight. The empty street making you think you’re the only two people alive in the entire universe and feeling like this is you’d ever need for the rest of your life.


words in lowercase

starts with a question. something new. a glimmer of hope. an opportunity. the sideward glance. eye contact and movement in still life. there’s an unraveling. stop and go against hit and miss. how far can a wild idea go? half an answer. a smile behind those huge, light brown eyes. funny how can something so small cause such a mess. laughter late at night. conversations left unsaid, stuck inside a breath. a moment alone. a moment together. moments.



I hope Scotland’s treating you well. I hope you’ve kept your strength. I hope that whomever you’re with, he’s treating you better than I ever did, could have.

It’s been four years, two cities, two degrees, and two life times ago now. For the longest time, you were – on a stubbornly subconscious level – the bar with which those who immediately followed you had been measured. It was unfair, and irrational, and dishonest, but it was the truest thing I’ve never admitted. If this ever reaches you, I fully expect you to die a little bit from embarrassment.

We were both so terrible with the follow through. I don’t think we could have ended any other way, even played a million times across a million universes. Our chemistry was always meant to explode and dissolve until there was nothing left to hold.

But I should make two things clear:

First, I loved you more purely, effortlessly, unambiguously than anyone before or since.

Secondly, I tried that canned crab meat that you were so strangely fond of: it is still fucking awful.


A thousand accidents

You came in with the grace of a train wreck. It goes without saying – I was caught unprepared. You’d think after all these years, I’d be old enough to know better but you’d be surprised how tightly I can hold on to crazy ideas. I like the wreckage of impossible situations a little too much. I’m worried what you might think if I thought it loud enough for you to hear me. I’m sure – eventually – it will sort itself out. I’ll take a thousand tiny accidents over the best laid plans. I like knowing that none of this was supposed to happen because that makes it feel like right.


You should have taken me with you.

  1. Beirut – Santa Fe
  2. Purity Ring – Fineshrine
  3. Wildlife Control – Brooklyn
  4. Noah And The Whale – L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.
  5. Jasmine Ash – Give A Little Less
  6. Sleep Thieves – City Lights
  7. The New Division – Soft
  8. The Vaccines – I Always Knew
  9. The Jezabels – Catch Me
  10. The View – The Clock
  11. Those Dancing Days – When We Fade Away
  12. Wild Belle – Keep You
  13. Summer Heart – Hit Me Up Again
  14. Meiko – Real Real Sweet
  15. The Mostar Diving Club – Worlds Apart

[April 2013] You Should Have Taken Me With You (116.2 MB)