Terrance Gonzo gives us some of his semi-skimmed wisdom

Often at the bus stop

the countdown don’t countdown

or at least seems wildly contradictory

and you’re the first to arrive but the last to leave.

Soon as you think – fuck it, I’ll walk

you get:

– excuse me. Can you buy me chicken and chips? The thing is-

– er, no.

This guy had taken to saying ‘I love you’

Out loud

Before he went to bed.

Who to?

His dead CAT

The LOVER he didn’t have?


Synthetic securities.

Yeah I’m talking to myself

he said to himself

pulled apart, limb from limb, by the mind.

I think lies slip out of lonely people,


They fantasise to such an extent they create a new reality presented as the truth

She said:

‘Life’s not what they tell you it’ll be like when you’re young, is it?’

‘They didn’t tell me anything,’ he replied

He had an unwelcome ability

to look like he was always lying

Disappointment tethered his passion

He let not his passion run free

For fear of disappointment

Disappointment, which,

Gave him endless patience

He expected nothing

He was (or had been) a procrastinator

He was

too calculated

too formulaic

too ordered

And the only

Logical Conclusion

to the Tyranny of Desire

was surely to go celibate

All confidence (even basic competence) disappeared in the company of others

She, she was like a lone wild animal. Hateful and fearful of newcomers

And she took the piss – and would offend – because she assumed people were doing it to her

The arrogance of the world made her feel tired

‘My head feels heavy and tight,’ she said

But she was closer to fifty than eighteen and she was worried about rules?

The weak hide behind rules, real or imaginary

‘I feel like a nervous traveller on the beach. Eager to try and claim it’

She started to sleep on the other side of the bed

The usual side had become a crater

Empty of late

As I spoke to her, I felt her anxiety grow

Anxiety for a mistake she didn’t yet know

And I remembered early on in the States trip Taboo saying he felt he’d made a lot of mistakes and I remember laughing, going ‘oh, don’t worry, we all have, all do, all the time’.

Then the horrible truth smacked me in the


I was in the middle of a gargantuan mistake

At that very moment

And I was kind of aware of it

But trying not to let it smash me, which it did, eventually and totally, for quite some time

What if I had stayed in Bolivia?

I’ll think that forever I’m sure

It was like reading a book or watching a film

and not being aware of the subtext

BUT she said

She was a bit of a bully. Residually. That’s why she took the piss. ‘I’m too hard on myself,’ she made clear.

‘I don’t quite believe my masculinity,’ he said. ‘I say things to myself that I know I won’t do. I am Einstein’s definition of insanity.’

The heart will stay sinister

Til the heart knows love

They were suited.

Events, remember

Everything else is pissing in a moderate wind

There’s no room for the intellect in a kiss

I thought it had been a fat woman

Turns out it was a thin man

God help me on a backstage of blood and deception

I was off again

And then a girl I was soon to part from


To say


Lovely stuff!

Another asked if liked Theatre Without Music

What, theatre? I replied

I still had the sensation in my mouth of her lone nipple hair protruding from the middle of her plump nip.

I could still sense it on my tongue

Then came ¾ woman. God knows who that was

Often on a date

there’s one who talks for their own amusement

filling the void left

by the absence of attraction

Pages fall from the magazine onto the tube floor

Maybe he notices, maybe he doesn’t

Two old women sat across from him see it.

One makes a slight move to the page

Then aborts

Too far? Too painful on her back? Too lacking in import?

Plus he’s noticed, she thinks

The girl next to the dropper exaggerates the thousand yard stare

The pages stay in situ.

A betrayed man betrays

with all the subtlety of a pub band drummer

Bad tits are like kneading runny bread

said a man with a sloppy gut

and runny tits of his own

And a room full of typing

Sounds like the rain.

The fact I am supportive of her going away is as much (if not totally) to do with where I am in life and the (relative) strength of my feelings for her

It is not (necessarily) a symbol of my openness and lack of jealousy

and every waste of money

‘is good for the economy’

(whatever that means)

His breath started to smell like a pub you could smoke in

A pub that stank of hairdressers and alcoholic granddads

She ate the crisps. They made her feel sick and heavy

Then, not long after:

– Toasted organic rye with notella and banana with oatmilk coffee and coconut sugar to sweeten

– Nutella?

– Notella is dairy free and sugar free x

– hmmmmm sounds good! No palm oil i hope!! xx

Her mother had invented sugar-free toothpaste And as a consequence

The family were set up for life

He was a beautiful boy

She looked at him from over the tracks

Almost nervous

As if thinking

‘My God, he does exist’

Just say hello!

But she thought: I’m gonna squid up

Happiness is something that happens to normal people

‘Mastadons – what are they? dinosuars? or what?’


‘When did everything get reduced to airport code?’


But in the park in the sun

People who wear many clothes look dodgy




MATE, it’s HOT!

Late news: There are calls for tanning licenses to be compulsory for all sunbed users. They’re coming out burnt as a crisp at the minute. Barbecue summer

Just before you go: ‘I don’t like young things. I like the taste of experience. Chirac wept when he ate his late Ortolan.’


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