She says “but I’m not” and it’s not always affected. Sometimes, maybe all the time, she really means this “but I’m not”, and you can imagine her looking into the mirror, her mouth turned the wrong way around and thinking this, pre-empting you with that ready fabricated phrase – “but I’m not”. Perhaps it is that we are to generous with such words – beautiful, lovely, gorgeous, amazing, breathless, sexy, etc, etc… We cannot be honest because humanity is generally a kind hearted species that ...

In pondering the following story it is very easy to discern the benefits for physiological survival given by the perception of pain. There was a girl who was born clinically insensitive to pain. As a child she bit the tip of her tongue of while eating her food, dislocated her hip and vertebrae while sleeping because she could not shift her weight according to how she turned and tossed in bed and she caused massive burns to herself while kneeling on a household heater. While she did not ...

I have just learned a very interesting tidbit about the reproductive biology of rats. The male rat, unlike the human rat, sorry, the human male, serves two purposes when copulating with those fabulously sexy females the rat species has going on. The act of copulation both makes a present of his sperm and stimulates the necessary "bits" within the female to poduce the hormonal secretions necessary to fertelize the eggs, and therefore propagate the numbers challenged rat species. The i...

So i am here. And it seems to be the simplest thing to say. Am. Here. And i suppose i could say that i am happy, but if you have read Mig's blog it might be possible for you to understand how complicated simplicity can be. I can grasp the physical location. That is simple enough. A measurable distance from home and family. The trees seem more alive here, as if the air is richer and the people less ambivalent. There are islands off the coast and it makes it seem like a myth, as if Odysseus ...

Subways and shopping centres, these are places of loneliness. It grips my tongue and imposes its terrible silence when I turn to the one next to me and want to speak. It’s almost as if I do not exist and the thought makes me tremble in some minor way because of its persistence, its day to day occurrence which pesters my movements. I gaze at wonderful women, at lowly women, only to see if they return my doleful enquiries. If only they would. Then I would exist, I would have a place, I would be...

Julie looked up towards the peak of her mothers insurmountable height and wondered what was wrong with her. Are adults blind or dumb, ignorant or indifferent? Of course, the thought did not occur to her in exactly those words, well, they were not words at all, more like a suspicion that cannot properly or explicitly take root in your consciousness. She did not want her mother to be stupid or retarded. She could not conceive of this possibility. Her mother was a genius, even if she did stay at...