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Books Read: January of 2026

Pretty self-explanatory concept. I list the books I've read for this month and what I thought of them. Obviously there are spoilers, as I have read the novels and such I will also have thoughts about the ending as well as the beginning and the middle. Flesh (2025): David Szalay A fascinating concept for a book. A character study of a grey void, a complete lack of character who interacts with the world almost exclusively monosyllabically and who rises and falls through no real initiative of his own. Every moment of real pathos, excitement or thrust in his life from his spell in a youth detention centre or watching his friend die in Iraq to getting married or having his first child happens away from the narrative, recounted to you by the least interested protagonist in literary history. His response to learning of his son's death and his wife's mortal injuries in a horrifying car accident is to sit down. Istvan is a man who fights, works, fucks, feels and exercises because he...
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Souls

The ancient Egyptians postulated seven souls. I postulate ten souls I postulate five souls I postulate fourteen souls  I postulate seven souls. The first soul does not get out at the moment of death. The fourteen souls do not get out at the moment of death.  I postulate we do not get out.  I reference all that came before me. Despite this, I, too, do not get out. We take our chances in the land of the dead. I believe this work is sufficiently transformarive as to not violate copyright.
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4.48

  Theatre is just poetry but longer. These days theatre isn't even longer, its all so short now. Attention spans. Who cares anyway. The form has been experimented with so hard its unrecognisable. I don't want the form to be experimented with anymore. I'm not a good enough writer to have to go back to the original form. You know its going there anyway. I want to be dead but I don't want to have to kill myself to get there. No I don't. Why did I say that? Everyone is sick of me anyway. I'm sick of having to clarify. I'm sick of having to explain the things I say. I'm sick of everyone worrying about me and I have to act like I'm not worried myself. Likely, hopefully, they just don't really care and I'm assuming I matter more than I do. Imagine having to explain this to a family member. Everything is boring and shit anyway. Who cares. No point dressing it up in pretension and literary language. Sit around getting pissed. Dr...
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Mens' Mental Health

Today will is one of those days I can feel the rip in the sky. Today will be a day you can see the taste of copper. On days like this, when reality's stitch is as taut as it can be, wheb the blanket frays I can see every fish, every bird, every stalk of wheat, speck of yeast, drop of water, that has ever made life easier for me. You can't see on a day like this, the light is too brilliant, too sharp. They, seeing, peer through the crack at me, and I can feel the point of their eyes. All of us know, I'm not worthy of their sacrifice.
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6th August

 Started the machine programme Calibrated the machine every morning Lifted the wooden sheets onto the machine bed Changed jigs Stored the cut lids in the storeroom Gathered wooden sheets to be cut Cleaned the machine of wood chips Threw the runoff from the machine in the dumpster Told the people who put the lids together which lids are finished Selected the programmes for each cycle Turned off the machine at the end of every day Cleaned behind the machine once a week Read the lists the managed asked us to work on Checked with the machinists who made the sides and bases which boxes they were making Check grain silos Feeding grain to calves Clean motorbikes when needed Setting up paddocks Working with dogs Moving cows Operating a computer Organising cow IDs on computer System was called DairyID Tagging cows' ears Collecting bail wrappers Washing cups after milking 250 cows Operated telehandlers Massey-Ferguson tractors Feed-out wagons was a Hustler Fencing trailer was homemade
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Work in Progress

This morning I woke up shivering, wet and crying. Walking to work a train station appeared for the first time in a spot that was empty the day before. Trains clack in and hurtle out, far more frequently than arrivals at the stations either side. I watch the latest ghost train derail, the fifth. Another bystander tells me the station going up this quickly created so many jobs. After all, you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. A policeman concurs, 'aren't we all a bit off the rails, these days?' he jokes, zipping up a body bag. I'm late for work. I explain to my manager that I was watching the trains derail. He tells me that he of course thinks civilian deaths are tragic, but that you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. The world is bigger than me, and I still have responsibilities. I never used to take the train home. On the train home I saw one I knew, I stopped him crying 'Stetson! You who were with me on the ships at Mylae!...
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