Blue rainy river flood day

Hello everyone,

Welcome to 2024. I hope you are all doing as well as can be wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re having to do, whatever you’d like to be doing.

It’s crazy weather here: wind and rain and bright blue breaks in the sky, brief and misleading. It’s warm, too (or so I hear: I’ve yet to set foot outside). It’s been crazy weather for ages, actually, storms, tornadoes (warnings and actual), wind like a turbine on a bouncy spring.

I’m glad the festive time is over and I can get back to doing things, even if it’s hard to get back into the habit of doing things. I’ve been writing, lots of starts, and also trying to get back into drawing as well—that’s a muscle that’s been unflexed for a very long time, so it’s taking a while to get comfortable again, for my imagination to turn over and start.

I’m not really one for New Year’s resolutions and all that, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the closing of a calendar year and a chance to get the brain in gear and some relief from the heavy heavy accumulation of a year’s worth of psychic overburden and thinking ‘hey what next?’

So what is next? More writing, more art, more zines. Nothing specific as yet, just ideas, and possibilities.

Below is the news; the tl;dr version is…

• Gardening Beneath a Falling Piano, a poetry/collage pamphlet/zine from Bored Wolves available now

• Lavender: a piece of writing I wrote that you may like to see, maybe

Had a lovely time working with the wonderful Kraków, Poland-based publisher extraordinaire, Bored Wolves. Pocket-sized, 28-page zine of poetry and collage.

"forever on the sea-pink brink of a cliff, or on the beach, waiting for the scarp to come down on top of you like a horrible pillow fight."

Bored Wolves say:

"Tenderly fatalistic collection of diurnal observations; snippets of days unfolding. Nap time. Deep time. The cosmic improbability of a couch. Staring off into space. Anchoring oneself to Earth through contact with earth and neighborly exchanges with caterpillars."

• Edition of 300

• 28pp, 12×17 cm, b&w offset, stapled

• Printed on Arctic Munken Print Cream 115

50% of the cover price from each zine bought from my shop will be donated to Medical Aid Palestine.

Also available directly from the publisher at this link.

The other night, I was trying to get to sleep, but I couldn’t, so I wrote this thing down. What is it? Who knows. It just came out in a splodge of writing, a bit of summer, here in the midst of northern hemisphere winter.

That’s all for now

Thanks all!

Sx