Without a shadow of doubt, Trafalgar Square has to be one of the most crap urban public spaces in the world.

As for critical writing about modernism, its moments of lucidity are but fulgurations illuminating the dark and incomprehensible landscape of its subject's unabashed difficulty.

Drug use and procrastination often go hand in tourniquet.

I loathe computers more and more, so I have one I can shut down and shelve like a book.

I'm English enough to feel something of a gut-reaction to modernism, to continental philosophising and anything that smacks of a refusal to pay attention to the forensics: the empirical facts on the ground.

The whole aesthetics of computers very much feeds into my OCD. They fill my head with obsessionalities and my actions become very repetitive. It seems quite inimical to the dreamy state out of which fiction comes which seems so much less causally repetitive than the way one works on computers.

I prefer to write first drafts as soon as possible after waking, so that the oneiric inscape is still present to me.