Billy is Writing

I have a piece of flash to share. Shocking, I know. I haven't written much this year. I am choosing to blame being far busier than I have ever been before. The real reason probably lies somewhere in the middle of 'crippling fear of the future' and 'genuine chronic laziness underscored by mental illness that I am consistently failing to get on top of'. Any who, this piece is a rambling little excerpt of a day in the life of a man called Brian. Like all truly great men, Brian is a piece of fiction. Thank you for reading today and I do hope you enjoy my work. If you want more, I might just right it. Or not. Hey Guys, Brian Here Six seconds ago, I learned what it meant to love. Which is a shame, really, given that I had been in a relationship for the six months prior to those six seconds. It would have been incredibly helpful to know how to love somebody whilst I was meant to be loving them. Misfortune is no stranger to me, though, and the lesson never found itself lear...

  Part One Back where he was from, two people who loved each other dearly and sought no other life but the one they would live together often decided to get married. Marriage, of course, being the permanent binding of two souls both legally and spiritually. Well, the permanence is only contextually relevant and the spiritual aspect is entirely open to personal interpretation. Many people also did not see the need for government input in their relationship, so the legal aspect of marriage could also be up to interpretation. That’s hardly the point, though. The point is, as far as he knew, marriage was the normal next step in a relationship such as theirs.  The Man had not known normalcy since he fell through a crack in the pavement on his way to work and landed in a world completely unlike anything he knew to be real. Above him now rested skies of impossible lavender shades and below him grew grass that somehow bore the taste of pepperoni pizza. This world was home to literal...

  The Fontaine is not named for any man or woman who walked this green Earth , no. This once-great, now-middling night club and music venue was named for the French word— not any such person whose great grand-father happened to take it for a surname. It’s a fountain and a natural spring all at once. Water is life in the same way music is life. Music keeps us sane, it keeps us happy, it makes us sad and it’s there for us when we need it. It can bring us back from the darkest times and it's what we need when the sun shines bright. Music flows from this hallowed ballroom the way water does from a spring. Hence, The Fontaine. Live music will never be the same thing it was 30 years ago and there is no way in Hell it comes close to what was here 30 years before that— but the fools whose mouths try to sing the worlds and whose fingers try to play the notes that make us want to live again spend every single Saturday night in that building regardless. The Fontaine was once an institution an...

  Foreword I haven’t written a word yet this year. Well, I’ve texted. I changed a line in a poem, too. I also made notes for a Youtube video- sorry, I started making notes for a Youtube video. I haven’t properly written, though. No prose or the like. Not until now, at least. The me of January 2024 would have been mildly embarrassed by this. What sort of ‘proper’ writer gets two (plus a day) whole weeks into the new year and hasn’t written a word? Is what I would have thought. Fortunately- and it is fortunate, because the agonising self-torment one engages in as an egotistical tortured artist is truly exhausting- I don’t really care anymore. Art is art because it's an authentic expression of one’s self. That’s how I’ve learned to see it. My writing will be written when it's time to write and not a moment sooner. With that preamble, I present to you- a middling piece of flash fiction that I had not even remotely planned out before I started typing.  Can Whimsy Die? Grief is a f...

  A Semi-Comprehensive Guide to Where We All Live by Theodore Glumpelshutz A long time ago, or so they say, there was nothing. There was no light, nor was there any darkness. There was simply nothing. Although I suppose there must have been darkness, at least there probably would have been if anyone were there to perceive it. After all, darkness is nothing but the absence of light.  All of a sudden, however, there was something . A whole lot of somethings , to be a touch more precise. Be it by science,  magic- or even a delicate combination of the two (I’d go with the latter personally, but hey ho- I’m an optimist)- there was something. Our universe was born. From then until now and probably later on, it has presided in its vast majesty over all of existence. The universe is everywhere and nowhere, in all the places and even the places with nothing else. A whole lot of something, though, doesn’t make everything . There was light and dark- but nobody was there to prove...