I’m starting to suspect that the
Endless scroll and the
Accompanying sensation of being hollowed out by nothingness
May not be
Seeing the occasional interesting article about how
Technology is destroying us


I said:
I’m actually becoming a vegan

Miriam said:
You hate vegetables?
Literally all I’ve ever seen you eat is
Cheese and bread.
As far as I know
You’re an 18th Century French farmer
Judging by your


Everyone’s like
‘We need to talk to people with different opinions than our own’
And it’s like
But –
Within reason
Insofar as:
Their argument should contain
At least

Third Way

I have been saying for some time now that there should be an additional option alongside the ‘online’ and ‘typing’ statuses on WhatsApp. And that this should be:

‘Online. Typing to someone else, though. Not you. Definitely not just staring at your name waiting for you to message me. No. No. No’


It’s incredible the lengths we will go to, to avoid paying 5p for a plastic bag, isn’t it? Like no no NO I’ll just carry these six bottles of rose in my arms, like they are my baby, which in many ways they are.


‘Get out into the real world!’
They say
‘Get off your phone!’
They say

But you go out into the
Real world
And everyone is
On their phones

At one point
Do we have to admit that
One world has become
The other?


She does her advice face and she says:
‘There’s two types of people you see, Sara, there’s radiators and there’s dr-‘

I cut her off:
‘I know
I saw that on Facebook and
I’m a

Save yourself’


We just don’t respect death, do we?
Our generation
We think that we can
Our way past disease
That audacity
That sense of control
Someone wise mutters:
‘It’s actually just about reducing risk, as opposed to eliminating it completely. The risk of death at some point is still pretty high’
The health freaks continue unabated
In their fevered triathlons
I think:
Gym bunnies can still get


He said
I’m not sure I belong on dating sites
You see someone with a ridiculous
Who’s into
Role play
And I want to message to say:
How about I

Aren’t We All?

I said
Babes I’m just looking for comfort
She said
Everyone is
That’s the problem
There’s too many people seeking comfort
And too few people providing it
I thought
She’s right
This is a damned
Supply and demand

Deconstructive Criticism

She said I was
Self absorbed
I thought
Oh god,
Am I?
I start thinking about how self absorbed I am
Like – a lot
Am with friends, ask them repeatedly
‘Mate … Mate … We can go back to you in a sec but first … Am I
Self absorbed?’
Am at a party
‘Hi everyone sorry can you all just stop what you’re doing for a moment? Thanks – listen do you think I come off really self absorbed? Yes? How so? Can you elucidate on that? Please tell me more about me’
Am at work, phone ringing off the hook but I’m thinking
To what extent am I absorbed in myself?
Am sat on the priority seat on the tube, a pregnant woman gets on but I don’t notice because all I can hear is
‘You are so self absorbed’
Am with family, but I don’t hear their conversing because I’m
Subediting a poem on the notes section of my iphone about a girl calling me self absorbed once

The years pass
I am increasingly
I just can’t seem to shake the feeling that
She might

Brother Of A Friend

She said:
He is so
Middle class
It’s just …
Middle class activities
So whenever I call him
If he picks up
“Can I call you later, I’m in the middle of my workout?”
“Can I call you later, I’m in the middle of dinner?”
“I’m actually JUST NOW hitting the slope, but call you when we get back to the cabin,


A ripple of fear runs through me
I think
I think
I may have chosen the
Wrong restaurant
For this

*I still eat it but I can’t enjoy it as much, you know? Sitting thinking – there’s somewhere out there that is better; what a horrific gnawing feeling.


I get these new glasses
I think the prescription is a little flawed
It’s messing with my depth perception
Walking down Oxford street
Feel like I’m tripping
I think
Is this how the over 30s
Get their


I say
Maybe we should stop critiquing everyone all the time
You know,
Stop screenshotting all their texts for
Analysis later
Aoife looks perplexed and says
What are you

What Was The Question Again?

I can’t seem to concentrate on reality anymore
Like, at all
I’ve totally lost the ability
I thought perhaps I had developed ADHD
I googled it
But got distracted before the page had even loaded
I just can’t seem to
Any of this

Web 2.0

Replying to something really quickly
On social media
To show you actually know something in your head
And you wouldn’t have been able to google that fact and type it quickly enough
Independent of wikipedia

On ‘Potential’

That scene at the end of ‘Withnail and I’ where he performs the perfect Shakespearean soliloquy to a pack of wolves, and you think what a waste, what a fucking waste. And that, that is our entire generation completely utterly depicted there, in him. And I’m so fucking angry that so many of my friends, with their strong minds, their beautiful minds, are pissing away their lives because, what else is there? Half the jobs are just bullshit thinly disguised as otherwise, where if you’re lucky you lose all sense of yourself. Or if you’re unlucky you forget you ever even had a sense of self. And the creative ones, where you try and monetise your soul and to your disappointment find out it’s barely worth an unpaid internship in arts administration. Or you do your day job and say you’ll do your creative stuff in the evenings and at the weekends but sometimes you’re just too tired from the day job and the day job makes structures in your mind where there were none and increasingly, you – who you really are – is whittled down to near extinction.

And the piercing irony of it all is that we … we come from Blair’s ‘education, education, education’ era. Yet what Blair never understood is if everyone has something, no-one does. And so we all do a masters now in something we’re vaguely interested in, and we probably do it part-time so we can string out more time before actually having to accept the fact that there’s nothing there anymore. Our parents who strolled in to not jobs, not careers, but lives. They don’t understand and even the socialists use the Tory line of ‘just work harder’ now. Of course, the ennui should have left us in our early twenties but still slouches around our veins like a never ending hangover. And people tell us about our ‘potential’. That’s the worst one. Always vaguely saying we have some potential, something… different, but for what, and how to be utilised, is never really specified.

And the clever ones of us became teachers because we know teachers are respected. Teachers can countersign your fucking passport application. But what for those that don’t want to teach? Or at least, not yet. That want to create something that will last longer than they will. Well I guess we all know deep down we can’t do this anyway; the Internet took away any notion of our own legacies. It was this massive gift, this Trojan horse gift, to our generation. The amount of Internet traffic generated in a millisecond shows we won’t be remembered. We will fall in to the abyss of macro history. Oblivion: take it, it’s yours.

It was almost like the perfect peaceful 90s was this sweetener for what was to come. We must now work in an office where we sit in a row, administration by any other name, tap tap typing away the best years of our lives with bureaucratic language and inauthentic tones. And kind regards and best wishes and moving forward and where were we with this one and have a good weekend and add this to the agenda and diarise that and can you conditional format this excel document and print 50 copies double sided in colour and 8 slides to a page and ANY WORDS APART FROM THOSE THAT SAY ANYTHING FUCKING REAL.

And I wonder … how many, how many of our generation are screaming soliloquies to wolves?

Well the discerning of us did science. And I guess they were happy in that but I remember the pathologist who sighed heavily one night; ‘I would have loved to be a stand up comedian’, her brow furrowed from her anxious push pushing parents legacy. And I guess you could work in health care or helping people in society for barely minimum wage and long hours and then the government cuts funding because what hedge fund manager is interested in actual people and you get made redundant and then you really wonder what it was all about. So you take the safe choice and work 9 to 5 and you tell yourself you just wanted the easy life when really you know it’s the harder life, and you ignore the ever growing voice in your mind which is ambitious but not in the conventional way, and it gets louder and louder as it shouts ‘but… I want more‘. And I wonder how long you can ignore that voice. Maybe until you die. Because, you know, you really, really, know, there is nothing more. Than this.