The emails have not been kind of
Late –
It’s not sadistic publishers
Or die-hard groupies
(well, mostly not)
No it’s people getting in touch
Wanting a taste of the good stuff
Their mouthful of meat
What they believe is theirs,
A weight I should carry.
Sometimes it’s about poetry,
I only wish more of it was –
But mainly it’s people
With nowhere to turn
And no thought for my situation.
I try and assuage their grief
But it’s no good
I cannot do it.
One day I can take no more,
I am staring at the ceiling
And I hear the telling ping.
I hit delete
It could be Jesus gone viral
But I doubt it,
Even He knows
I’m past saving.
Then I know it’s a diehard,
My phone begins to make
Continual pinging noises;
An ****** of woe.
The buggar then begins to
Ring.
I could fling him across
Main Street
But I only bought him
Two days ago.
He’s not worth it,
And goes away,
Before I can blow.
But sure enough,
There is no peace for the wicked:
Beep, beep
Ring, ring
Ping, ping
I picked it up, primed
“What do you want?!” I bellow.
“Oh... I’m sorry Mr. Hinton, just
To let you know this is Nurse
Georgia, reminding you about your
Appointment this Friday?”
I told her I’d be
There for her.

“Virginia Woolf was wrong, you don’t need money, hell you don’t even need a room , to be a writer. All you need is a lonely garret and a toilet. Got that, and a writer’s got it all.”

I think it’s a misconception
That a writer’s garret is blue.
Not at all, it’s a place of bonding
Where it takes me and you.
The only choice we have to make
When you come over at two
Is to think when you’re reading my poetry
Have we got any learning left to do?
We get on so well
There’s nothing left to say
Apart from to have a laugh
And strum the day away.
I treasure these moments
It’s more than a poem or a song
It’s more like a healing
And I feel it growing strong
You show me what you’ve written
I’ve tried to hold you before
But only now do I see that
A relationship is so much more
Than a warm body to hold
And our experiences are so sublime
When I’m sat with you
And you’re glowing all the time
You’re smiling, ah yes
This is a partnership we both can offer to
A writer’s garret is a place where we can grow
Not a place where we go to be blue.

For Lucinda*

Lucinda, Lucinda
Why didn’t I realise
The goodness that lay in your heart
The redemption that lay in your eyes
I feel so unworthy
All that you did for me.
In one moment of anger
I threw it away carelessly
I said somethings I didn’t mean
And I foolishly left for a while
Thinking that I could make it on my own
But I returned dejected to a smile
They way you hug me
You hug me like you really do
Mean it, god, I feel so unworthy.
I’ve never met a woman so true
With such a heart of gold
I just stand back in awe
The way you forgive what I’d rather forget
You find perfection where others see flaws
God must be a woman
No other being could hold such love
There’s not a day that doesn’t go by.
When I don’t that the Good Man above
For bringing women like you into my life
Because I was going god knows where to this day
For all the time I spent alone
You made me feel like I wanted to stay
I know I’d be happy if I knew I was your man
You build me up when I don’t feel tall
I am just standing here in awe
Girl, now I’ve seen it all

Lucinda, Lucinda
Why didn’t I realise
The goodness that lay in your heart
The redemption that lay in your eyes
I feel so unworthy
All that you did for me.
In one moment of anger
I threw it away carelessly
I said somethings I didn’t mean
And I foolishly left for a while
Thinking that I could make it on my own
But I returned dejected to a smile
They way you hug me
You hug me like you really do
Mean it, god, I feel so unworthy.
I’ve never met a woman so true
With such a heart of gold
I just stand back in awe
The way you forgive what I’d rather forget
You find perfection where others see flaws
God must be a woman
No other being could hold such love
There’s not a day that doesn’t go by.
When I don’t thank the Good Man above
For bringing women like you into my life
Because I was going god knows where to this day
For all the time I spent alone
You made me feel like I wanted to stay
I know I’d be happy if I knew I was your man
You build me up when I don’t feel tall
I am just standing here in awe
Girl, now I’ve seen it all

...And they’re ******* playing the song
Lucinda would sing to
Right outside my window
After she failed to return my calls
Two days ago
I laugh
It’s all that stops me from crying.
I have decided one thing,
Me and fate don’t like each other.
Perhaps cos I told him I never needed him.
I know this much
If fate was a person
I’d be punching him in  the  ******* face
Right about now.

The great thing
Is being out of your mind. Emotions;
Who actually needs them? They
Do not govern me. I am my own
Master. I ask for no handouts
And I ask for no guide.  I have a lord
In heaven called the sun and I have
A hell which is that of other people.
It’s not so much that I dislike people
It’s that I just prefer it when they’re not
Around. They don’t understand me,
So what’s the point in even starting?
I have the fire in my heart to go
And see the world. I want to achieve
All the things I want to, and enrich
My eyes. People:
Did you not permit yourselves to open up
Once like you never will again?
Why not? Maybe because you
Capitulated to the mainstream.
Because in truth I am speaking now
The way you used to.

Because I am complete.

Some days I just
Lay there,
2am – staring at the
Ceiling
Home alone when
I walk through my
Front door,
Thinking:
Take me. Take me now.
I can’t be this strong anymore.
I’ve been the travelling man
I’ve wandered through this hell,
Parched of love
Full of loneliness
Broken hearted
Defeated
Beaten to a pulp.
I’ve soldiered on this far
But now
The vultures can have me.
Then I sleep
And somehow I wake to the
Onslaught again.

Women. Making out.
I don’t think I’ll come back
It’s just like a circle
We’re on a one-way track
Looking for something
Looking for some meaning
So tell them sorry
Sorry for leaving
Do whatever you want
You can burn all my mail
I just don’t feel I belong
And it’s all in the detail
I don’t want to do this
I don’t want to conform
I don’t want to be everyone else
I don’t want to be the norm
And I know it will be hard
For just a l’il while, to go there all alone
But I know it’s the road less travelled
Once I’m there I won’t want to come home

To Tory, Lucinda and Brioche. The poem you deserve.*



She’s no good at being phoney
She never tells a good lie
She knows when I got to be alone
She tells me when I’m too high
She always walks beside me
Never too far too far behind
And whatever I seem to do
She stays in that good place all the time
Because no matter what I say
And no matter what I make out to believe
She will always be a special lady
Especially special to me
She’s got that heart of gold within her
She’s got the ability to keep the pace
She doesn’t take no crap from me
She’ll **** well put me in my place
And yet at the same time she’s gentle
She understands why I am like I am
And I know there will be soft words
Whenever I need a helping hand.
I think these women are one in a million
Richer than any gold or diamond ore
And I hope in the future that
Their boyfriends won’t want any more
Because they’re good women as they are
It’s quite plain to see
They invite me round to play cards
And let me watch Eurovision on TV
I’ve never been welcomed so much
I’ve never felt less alone
When these girls are around me
I don’t need to wander cos I’m home
And when I blow a fuse over something
That’s really been driving me round the bend
They just smile and shrug their shoulders
When it’s time to start over again.
She is so good to me, it’s true.
I know I have many faults as a man
But when I see those eyes, I’m not stupid
I know how lucky I am. X

A Sophie Hesme

She won’t do this forever
Famous last words
It has to be up there with Napoleon
And Nelson
‘Drink, drink, fan, fan, rub, rub’
Hardy never got
Kissed
Which is a similar feeling
I get, sat across from Josy
In poetry class.
I chew the end of my pencil
As I get bombarded with shrapnel
I’m hit! I’m hit!
But she won’t do this forever
Hopefully I don’t bleed to death
Before I get reconciled.

Sitting on a fence,
Just you and me
Holding hands
The touch of an arm,
The brush of a cheek,
As the sun goes down
And the fresh smell of corn fills our noses
And whisky fills our veins
We know:
We are so painfully close,
Yet  so tragically distant.
<3

I found all the things
Here that hurt you
All the things you couldn’t
All the things you wanted to do.
I see them on the tip of your tongue
They are just shooting stars
Dancing through the streets
Smiling, saying who cares?
I’ve got it all now
You won’t think you’ve waited all your life
Because here she is
The woman you waited for to arrive.
So you finally made it
I was so convinced we would
She doesn’t love you for money
She loves you for what she should:
You.
I see solar flares right across the sky
Why did you sink so low
When you had so far to fly?

To Alex

Sometimes I think when I sit at 3am
Staring at the screen
Listening to ‘Lonely Island’
I take stock of where I’m going:
We all must.
Not just looking where  we have come
But where we are going.
It’s like love:
You can’t go bull-headed into these things
It must take its course
And sometimes the intermittent waiting
Leads to sleepless nights.
I sit and think,
I want to be your soldier in hiding, girl.
Not for bragging rights
But the fact is,
I can’t bear to lose another.
Such a shame –
When the night rolls on
So do the texts
And the romance goes unfulfilled.

I remember moving in to my old flat
Down in San Jose
It wasn’t much to look at
But it was all I could afford
I was studying a 6 day degree
Hoping it would get me somewhere
It was only dollar twenty five
In the rag
Because we all sometimes have to pray
For small mercies
I had just paid out for another hidden cost
Turns out there are a lot of them
When you haven’t got much money:
$13.02 to get my room key
Or the landlady hits me over the head with a baseball bat –
That’s how a democracy works, we elect a leader
And then they milk us for all we are worth.
A dictatorship works the same way –
Only they don’t bother with voting.
This hunny came up to me,
Lips that could devour a man
A body so voluptuous
It could make a man go insane.
“Excuse me, there’s no toilet roll in the cubicle.”
****, what small hells we make for each other
Even the cruellest of men should be able to wipe their ***.
At times of seeing such beauty
We become all gushing
And promise things that are simply beyond us,
In a hope of being rewarded with a mouthful of beauty
Or even better –
A bed.
So I went downstairs and had a near fatal run-in
With the Jamaican landlady
“You won’t be having no pieces of *** in your flat
I-s can be a-telling you that now!”
I returned with the toilet roll
She puckered her lips
Winked and said she would see to me tomorrow
So the next day I went round and said I had
A bit of ailing at the back of my throat
She turned her nose up and said:
“There’s nothing that could be done for me.”
And with that shut the door.
It is such a shame when such beauty gets prissy
But that is the human condition
The more generous you are
The less generous you can afford to be:
Just ask Timon of Athens.

The telephone has not been kind of late
It’s not from new found fans
Who have suddenly started praying for me,
Or from publishers
Wondering when my next book is going
To be finished
No –
It’s much closer to home,
Friends of mine crying their eyes out
Because some long-legged stunner has left them
“Dan, I don’t know what to do, she
Was a little girl from Sweden,
A real supermodel,
I bought her a diamond ring
And now she’s gone!”
A  crackle down the end of the phone
“Come on mate, pull yourself together,
Why did you buy her a diamond ring?”
“Because I thought she loved me!”
“How much was it?”
“£5,000...”
“And how long have you known her?”
“3 weeks... I thought she was the one.”
I hang up after my apologies and realise I can do no more
I’m no snob, I try and assuage their grief but what can I do?
I can only talk to them, and the girls –
They must figure the rest out.
I decide to go and talk to one of my best and longest friends
She is one of those ladies I have always felt my friend
And a good one, but nothing more.
I talk to this elite selection of women, because
They surely must know what it takes to get women.
I turn up on the farm, she smiles, just finished butchering a pig.
“More fool him is all I can say. Tell me the only way
He knows whether a girl will play him honest, is if
He looks beyond the beauty and is she there
When he needs her the most, through thick and thin –
That’s the testament of a women worth having.”
God bless, Hannah – she had a way of putting it so eloquently
And I don’t believe I could do the speech justice.
That night I ring him up
“What did your friend say?”
“Nothing man, just leave it.”
“What?”
“That’s how you learn: the girls that are good
For you are there all the time. Whatever happens –
Soon as you mention money or start throwing money
At the long legged, the *****, the blonde. You’re dead
In the water. They know they’re beautiful.”
“Thanks mate, you’re a pal.”
I hang up and the phone ring again. It’s Hannah.
“So what did you tell him?”
“Just what you told me, but in language he gets. Man speak.”
“You’re one in a million. You know that? I love you.”
I hang up the phone and smile to myself:
Everyone’s gone away contented.
I’m rather pleased with myself,
They both got to hear what they wanted to hear
With the minimal amount of damage.
It’s a hard act to balance
It’s a hard lead to follow
But I’m mastering it.

I hadn’t seen you for quite a few days
And instead of ringing up the search party
I called you up on the phone;
Hoping you’d chased your dreams
And would come back and
Realise how much I loved you.
You whispered sweet nothings
Down the phoneline
You told me,
Quite frankly
Bitter-sweetly,
I could go to Hell
But honey, why would you want
Me to go down to the fires down below?
With the Hell I’m living here on Earth.
I hung up the receiver
And saw shadows of your humour
Firstly on the fridge door;
A post-it read:
I’m having the house and the cat
Your favourites, lychees
Are on the top shelf.
I didn’t want them.
They’re so bitter, so sweet.

It’s been twelve years
Since I refused to sell my soul
To the devil
Not for all the wealth
Not for all the gold
He slid a piece of paper in front of me
Eyes bulging He said,
Boy if you want to make it here
You better listen to what I say
What others say matters
It’s the word on the ground
Do you need that wife
Do you need your friends around?
And I said:  no, that’s not me
I can only give so much
I am who I am
I’d never sell myself
To please someone
Who can never be pleased.
My friends have always been there
My family laid down for this land
I’m not going to be what you want
I’m not going to whiten my teeth
Or lose a couple of pounds
Because a country boy is all I’ll ever be
A rattlesnake in the grass
Saying: ‘don’t you tread on me’

There’s all these people singing today
“Bless me, what a wonderful life”
But I’ve been around enough
To know that isn’t right.
I’ve felt loss and I’ve seen death
I’ve stared the gun in the face
I can see the smoke coming off the barrel
Just another casualty in the rat race.
My mama and my papa
Worked hard every day of their life
Laying down to save this land
Through turmoil, blood and strife.
I know about the struggle
How it’s best to take what you can get
But just live life being happy so
That’s something I’ll never forget
Suddenly it’s not about the
Price tag on your clothes or what you wear
Who even gives a ****?
Who the hell even cares?
Because when you’re out here
Any relevance to that is gone
You’re just another average Joe
The best you can hope for is to die with your boots on
It don’t matter about a grave
You’ll be too far gone to care
Just chuck me in a ditch
Please don’t cry, please don’t despair
Cos you work every day of your life
And when it’s gone it’s gone
And if you’re a good boy then maybe
You’ll be lucky enough to die with your boots on.

I told her, I did
Megan, I said
I’m not taking the load
Not anymore.
You come to me when you
Want help with words
But you won’t give me
Your tongue
Or even, as a deposit,
Your word:
Yes.
So I’m saying no,
******* you *******;
And she is gone.
I do feel bad – a bit.
But what can you do?
Bottle it up,
The bottle begins to crack.
Do what you can
Because you can’t come back
That was the straw that
Broke the donkey’s back.

‘You *******!
You *******!
You *******!’
It’s all I hear
Being shouted down
The corridor
Thank God I’m
Walking the other
Way.
I do miss those nights
At flat 33.
It’s another generation
Another guy being
Thrown out
On his gluteus
Maximus
Told to scram!
Get the **** out!
Because Delilah’s on it?
And he’s out.
Some of the best and worst moments
Have been endured on my bottom.

If the time comes when someone
Asks me, “Dan,
What one thing would you hope for,
For this world I mean?”
I guess, after much deliberation,
I’d have to say ‘hope’
I’d wish for ‘hope’,
It’s all you can do.
The hope that this
Fear that consumes us
All in concrete
And frigid isolation
Dissipates
Along with the falseness
And the corruption,
And that we are free
To seize ourselves
Seize the day
Seize everything we want to be
Maybe I would not go
As far as Blake to say
We could retrieve the lost Golden Age.
I am by all definitions a pragmatist
Therefore I am hoping.
Hoping
  And waiting

Written with Josy in mind.

There comes a time in life
When we cross the River of No Return
We have to go and move on ahead
We have to leave the bridges that we burned.
There are bridges over troubled waters
I guess that’s what good friends are for
But sometimes the bridge just crumbles
And the foundations hit the floor
Into the River of No Return it goes
You get whipped, you pay the piper
But in the end you get to call the tune
And then, my friend, you’ll be so much wiser.
Maybe you’ve got your finger on the trigger
It’s a hard, hard lesson you’re going to learn
You’re gonna have to take a beating
And you’re on the River Of No Return.
It runs on and on through the Jungle
You don’t look back; you don’t know what you’ll find
You’ve been there and you’re past it
Through the wastelands of your mind.
It’s the law of the Jungle my friend
The Nature of the Beast
Lying in wait for all of us
Save yourself, to say the least.
It’s a hard, hard decision
To stand and watch your bridges burn
But it’s a hard, hard lesson
That we all have to learn.
It’s not easy; I know it’s not easy...
Everything you had, everything you believed
To see it go up in smoke, fade away
And finally accept you were deceived.
Once in your life you will see
There’s no where left to run
When you cross the River of No Return
And your heart comes undone.

All the way down here in Wiskokee
We live like it used to be
Nothing really changes much
Not since Mr Patterson’s arrival in 1863
I wouldn’t say we’re backward folk
We just are happy with our seat
Out in the wilds of Buckinghamshire
Where there’s all the fish you can eat
We don’t do big banquets
Nah, we don’t do fancy *****
We just do bread and water
No-one goes hungry at all
We don’t think much to going out
We don’t think much to the Internet
We just live right and true
And catch what we can in a net
We don’t think much to crime
To us it’s all really the same
We just go using a gun
To go hunting us some game
We don’t think much to hygiene
Why would we want it any other way?
When we’ve lived right for years
Up to our knees in mud and hay
Perhaps I’m misunderstanding
Why you’re kissing this guy you’ll never see
We just like the quiet where I live
And a simple life is enough for me!

I remember sitting in
Numerous wards
And clinics
With all the madmen
Around me –
Wondering if they are dying
Or whether that
Scratch has turned
Septic.
I think people enjoy
Thinking there’s something
Seriously wrong with them,
It gives them
Something to do
With their dull lives.
But it works both ways,
Doc can feel a hero
And he can tick a box.
God incarnate,
Allah, Buddah, Jesus.
I am called in
I’m sure my diastolic is up
After nabbing a handful
Of pear drops.
“Right, Mr. Hinton, please sit down –
Are we feeling okay today?”
“What can I say, I’m in a
Practice when I could be writing?”
“Ever the pragmatist... Now let’s
Have a look – your blood pressure’s up.”
“You just stuck a rod on my arm
And contorted my arm, I’m sad
It’s not through the roof.”
“Now, you take it easy on
The beer and the women.”
“You know I won’t, see you in
Six months time, John?”
I shake the Doc’s hand and
I slink away.
Immortal for another day
*******.

In the deepest night
I was feeling half past dead
I just needed somewhere
To rest and lay my head.
I said ‘mister, could you tell me
Somewhere I could lay my head?’
He put his arm round my shoulder
And this is what he said:
“Take a load of famine
Take a load of greed
I’ll see you right my son,
If you just put your load on me.”
I walked with him down the street
He says “this Jester’s my brother,”
And so we continued to walk
Fool on one side, devil on the other.
I asked him what he was doing out
When it was a good quarter to twelve
And he just smiled and said, “Son,
Sometimes you have to think of someone other than yourself,
Now let’s go and get you some food –
Take a load of spam, take a load of beef
Take a load of chewing tobacca
And then put your weight on me.”
When we went to a little saloon
And I asked him why he did what he did
He just sipped  his drink
Then said, ‘hey listen kid’
There’s a lot of people in this world
Who are only out for themselves today
They’re so consumed with their problems
They just can’t seem to see the way.
There’s so much greed around
There’s so much fear –
Sometimes I sit and think
Well, where do we go from here?”
Then he looked at me
Then he leaned a little to
And said, ‘I’m a man of the world’
And I know what we got to do.
We got to help one man at a time
Unlike religion we can’t save them altogether
One soul at a time my friend, come
And see what I mean down on the heather”
So we went down past the brush
Past people walking around
They had their own trajectory and problems
They commuted without a sound.
‘I see what you mean’ I said
‘Everyone’s too full of their own concern’
And the little man just smiled at me
‘That’s something you’re going to have to learn’
But just because it’s happening, doesn’t mean it can’t change
So take a load of greed,
Take all the things that hurt you
And put your load on me.”
He said “tell me all your troubles,
That’s how we defeat the greed
I’ll be there to listen ‘til they’re gone.
Feel free to put your load on me.”

If we’re gonna get this out in the open
Let’s do it here and now
Let’s draw some blood
And forever hold your peace.
It all started with Sophie
When she rejected me in love
Then I ****** things up with Josy
And her memory chases me to this day.
I try and escape it but everywhere I go
It goes with me
Be loved. Be loved
I can speak so many languages
But the beast isn’t satisfied
Be loved. Be loved.
I just have to turn
And say helplessly
I don’t know how to be!
I’ve tried and I’ve tried
I’ve looked and I’ve looked
But it’s never come to me
I don’t know what more you want from me?
I don’t know what more I can do?
I can’t mistreat a woman
So she can hope to change me
I can’t be that mean
It’s a moral dilemma
Where there are no winners
Only me.
Tearing myself to pieces
The wound agape
Exhausted
But unable to sleep.

To Tory and Lucinda, you finally got your poem*

Ok honey, I’m about to go
I’m about to blow a gasket
I’ve been working all day
Like a regular dog, got up
At the crack of dawn.
I’ve been saying yes Sir
All day at work and
I’ve been saying yes
M’am all the time to
You and now I’m
Ready to go. You
Can only push a
Man so far before
He loses the will
Or the effort
To try and please
Someone who
Can never be
Pleased. I
Need to get
My things
Together
And jus’
Reacquaint
Myself
With Jim Beam
Because I’ve been being
Good for much too long.
Now a good boy's gone bad
I’m now taking my time off
For bad behaviour.

60,3913  N, 5,3221 E, Bergen, 22.05.17

The Germans wear you down spiritually. They look through you with eyes of ice. It hurts when you see your friends turn their back on you. When you see the girl you loved, kissed in the canteen by a *****.  Your heart burns. What has he got that I haven’t? Apart from the muscle that pads out his boiler suit. No-one wants an intelligent man. I sit here sipping coffee in a fishing village café in Bergen. The coffee is hot and my heart aches. Soon we will be making our way up through the fjords to Geiranger. The beautiful fjords that embrace you. There is not so much to bear witness to here. The Gravlax is poor and overrated. Everything is shut. The dreary rain comes down on * A colleague drove me all the way to Hardanger Bridge. The bridge that connects Oslo and Bergen is truly breath-taking. I have seen the Milau Bridge in the South of France, the Somerset Bridge, Clifton Suspension Bridge. However, this is really the highlight of Bergen; unless you are drunk.
17.00 - we leave for G.
62,1008 N, 72059, E, Geiranger, 23.05.17

I wrote to Nan last night. I asked for her guidance. I want everything to be okay with Aline. 05.00 hours I got up to see the Geiranger fjords. They were breathtaking; we passed the Rock God in the cliff face. Or rather; he let us pass. Norway is really a paradise. I think how people only think with their bellies. Helen the nurse abandons us half way up the waterfall. I turn back. The Germans have an acute interest only in themselves. One wonders where love lies. I have found Ole’s café – at the base camp of the waterfall. It is here I feel at home. At this coffee shop I must remember everything properly. I must also forget Helen and how angry she makes me feel.  Mr. Edin said: “It’s the system that makes them so. Everyone is born the same.”

62,0861, N, 6,8687 E, Hellesylt, 23.05.17

I hate my life. I hate my inability to fall in love with anyone and anyone to fall in love with me. These days I can’t stand to look at the face that I see in the mirror. Parts of me crumble away to dust. I feel more and more bitterness, in port, towards couples that have found love – to the point of absurdity. Ice-skating; I drift slowly around the rink. It is the only real time I feel complete when I am alone. I see a couple kissing and happy in love. I feel anger and a bitterness burning up within me.  Why can’t I find someone that loves me simply? Why do I have to do all this **** – the garbage of personal relationships. Hellesylt is truly beautiful. At least I feel at one with nature; even if I don’t fit in anywhere else.

59,4136 N, 5,2680, E, Haugesund, 24.05.17

The war against fat, like finding love, is ongoing. I always feel I am the loser. I am a loser. I am sat in a coffee shop overlooking the red and yellow houses. I try and chat up the waitress;  a beautiful Norwegian blonde. I try and embody the image of a sailor. It works to some extent, but actually only reflects back on myself as a person. The aching has grown less. The coffee helps to balm the dissatisfaction I feel with life; as does the view across the river. There is an English couple opposite. How can you complain with that view out across the river? Twenty-five degrees, surely we must be able to leave our pain behind? I feel myself become more and more alive; back to life. The wounds are healing again. The pain passes.

5,89700 N, 57331, E, Stavanger, 25.05.17
We are going to sit and hammer this out. This book, this journal, bears witness to life. That is its meaning.  Why is it so hard to find love and to be loved? I am only an anatomical structure – corruptible, breakable flesh. Stavanger is quite simply a boring town. You can walk from one end to the other in thirty minutes. There is a church; a freedom monument and slated, wooden houses. Yuliana the Belarusian pushes her body onto mine, beneath the Northern Lights like a teddy bear; she hugs me again and again, never letting me go. I kiss her delicately on the ear. She giggles. I can still hear her voice now and the smell of her sweet perfume. Oh, how I burn inside. How many thoughts and feelings wheel in an instant. How capricious this heart is. I must drink another coffee.

59,9139 N, 10,7522,E, Oslo, 26.05.17
I am on the hunt for a Durian fruit in Oslo. My hunt for Hardanger Beer with the appropriate label also continues. We dock right in the centre of Oslo. The sun warms me. Trust me to fall in love with the only lesbian on board. In Oslo’s most popular café, Kaffebereint,  I think how I get myself into such situations. Maybe it’s because I love long nails on a woman. She has forgotten her scarf. I should really do more sit up and visit the gym. My feet are too busy wandering. Sauna Night takes place onboard – a reward for all those who helped out at the party below the mooring deck. I serve punch and party the night away. For a while I forget the disappointment of people and the strangeness of my body. Oslo is beautifully serene. I walk in the footsteps of Ibsen. I try and make my writing smaller and smaller so that it is almost like Chinese ideograms. I close the gap. I try to be neater; to be better. I walk along the boulevards of coffee shops, wondering how I can be better.
53,35 N, 8,35 E, Bremerhaven, 28.05.17
I am back home (in home port) from the Nordic Voyage. I need to rest up in Hamburg before embarking on the next adventure to the Northern Cape. 21.06.17 at 1700 hours – Bergen. What else is there to report on as we approach the quaint fishing port of Bremerhaven? Home. Only that my ex-girlfriend from Algiers has given birth to a baby girl; she wrote to me. Two years old. Name: Eline. Letters are wonderful. The waves lap gently at the boat. If you ever thinking about writing a letter, you should; we haven’t spoken for two years and she writes to me, out of the blue, because of a Christmas card she picked up in Dar Es Salaam. That is life; life on a boat; life at sea; life on the breadline. A sailor’s life is a funny thing; full of unpredictability.  Even as an enthusiastic merchant sailor I can see the draw of this life. – as tough as I am, what else is there to say? Only that another adventure waits me in Hamburg –

The rest of this transcript, as subsequent potential voyages is lost.

Understanding – for the first time-
Call it a willingness to grow
A case of trying to matter
And now I really know
That you were there for me all the time
You were really on my side
You let me be who I was
I knew I had nothing to hide
You could accept I was crazy
You made me fit when I was out of place
Or so it seemed to me
You managed to keep the pace
And what’s more you loved me
You gave me more than you ever had to do
You were there when I was alone
Sometimes it was just me and you
And you understood what others didn’t
You knew when I needed to be alone
And when I rang you at midnight
You knew just what to say on the phone
You gave me the pride I needed
When I was lost you showed me where to go
And when I was worn down by life
You gave me tough love, the only love you know
And now I’m understanding
Everything suddenly looks oh so new
Call it trying to matter
You really took the time when you really didn’t have to
I see everything so much clearer
You’ve really helped me see
Thank you so much Hannah
It’s meant so much to me.

It’s such a shame
When all people have to live off is loneliness
So often they are overlooked
By people in search of the grander
The prettier
The more popular.
Everyone wants to tell their story
Or speak to someone
But we’re not all getting equal
Show and tell time.

Haters
They are everywhere
They are like a contagion
Infecting everything in their path:
And that is the worst of it.
It’s not the death of morality
But the slow dying
The crumbling of it.
This is what the human condition has become:
Good people
Eroded
Worn down
By **** boring people
Boring people populating the Earth.
It’s a two faced monster
Vain
Drunk
Horrible to look at
Feasting on good looking girls
And boys
But there will come a time
When even Death will wince
At the old hags
Before taking them.

“Adam Kieslowski,  I want to punch your face in, with all due respect.”

“Dan! Don’t do it! Don’t go there!”
“I’m gonna, do it Megan.”
“Don’t! You’ll **** him!”
I was at the point of snapping
No man scared me
The blood was pumping
Through my fists.
Mike Tyson could have
Walked through the door,
******* Gargantua
I would have got froggy for
Megan.
Silly cow could never even love me
Back, but alas, tis the work
Of lust and ******* desire.
I am by no means a good fighter
But a ***** one,
A tactician,
Teeth an’ claws are no bounds for me
******* Oedipus him if you have to
I had a bellyful of beer-*****
And I was ticking over
Idling
Thinking, teasing
Working the jaw.
The door opened and I pounced
Throwing him to the floor
I could feel Megan pawing at
My back
But it was futile
When a man is pumped, even
The God’s can’t stop him.
I threw him back against
The floor
Gritting my teeth
His lip swelled like a melon
And tears filled his
Watery eyes
“Oh my...”
“What the **** did you say, buddy?”
“Dan please...”
“What the ******* messing Megan around for?”
He mumbled, blood oozed from
Every orifice and his mouth
“Answer me!”
With that, he did something
No man expects,
He burst into tears!
Floods of tears, not just a trickle
A ****** fountain.
We nearly had to call in Moses
To do his party trick with the
Red Sea.
I let him up, as Megan’s eyes
Burned my head.
With that he ran out of door
And drove off.
Puff.
Safe to say, I now had to get
Out the room
Without Megan killing me
Multiple ways.
I didn’t return for several days
Like one doesn’t return to
And aeroplane crash site.
I saw her one day, and she
Said nothing
She came up and
Kissed me on the cheek
And walked on.
I guess Adam never
Bothered her again.
I returned home
And continued to write
And drink beer.
I didn’t think
That situation was
Too bad for my
Soul.

I have figured out the lay of the land
I should be a god
This information is worth the price of gold
For those who know it
Are you ready?
It goes like this:
Lawus Soddus (that’s Latin) has your telephone ring
When you’re at maximum pleasure
Every fool in the neighbourhood rings
About insurance
About the cat
About you
But when you are alone
And in need of someone to talk
Will they call?
No
Not one.
Of the 6. Billion. *******.

I’m under her influence
It’s not the way I wanted it
The rain that heaves don’t seem to leave
And the pain just won’t quit
So I sit myself down in an old cafe
I order a couple of Margaritas
I don’t know what’s in it, it takes like ****
And I sit next to some senoritas.
I go and talk to a fellow Oakie
So I just say to him how’s your day?
He looked bemused, and then confused
And said can’t you see the pain won’t go away
So we sat and toasted to
The women who had done us wrong
We threw it down, be it green or brown
And laughed that it had been so, so long
Since we’d felt this good
Descending into a drunken state
It didn’t really matter; we had no one to flatter
Who cares it’s only half past eight?
I said what’s your pain my friend?
Cos our poison’s right here:-
He says I’m here to stay; I’m trying to drink away
A woman with blue eyes and long blonde hair
The good guy don’t always get the woman
Not like in the films they show
Here I’m sitting on the sand, glass in hand
An’ I got such a long, long way to go.
So I said we’re here for the long-haul
And so what’s it going to be?
He said you choose, I got nothing to lose
All I can see is a glass looking back at me
So along came the drinks
And the Oakie winced as he took his set
There’s something in the bottom, of this drink I just gotten
But I just wanna see how drunk I can get
It just seems like bad luck follows me
How I’ll ever get rid of him I don’t know
Women and drink, surely push you to the brink
But drink up; we got a long, long way to go

I say we got a long, long way to go.
Long, long way to go.

Wanted:-*
One good woman to give the man that loved her, a second chance. Preferably seeking the woman who he gave his heart to. Tomorrow may be too late. Contact ASAP. I’m not buying or selling anything; only one heart to give: one good-hearted woman to forgive the imperfections in the man who loved her. Wanted – just ONE chance to tell her how much he still loves her. And how much he will give just for her to talk to him, and give him a second chance.

I hope she comes back, when she reads these words.
Number: Well, she has it in that little book somewhere.

She smells like summer
And you sir smell like smoke
She smells of butterscotch and raspberries
You smell like a man who’s broke
And can’t afford to shower too often
You’re just a filthy *******, yes you
But it’s ok when she gives you a light
This beautiful cowgirl smokes too
She hands you a Marlborough Red
(Nothing But), and helps you understand Jack
She’s stitches you up when life plays rough
She’s straightening the crick in your back
So you can walk upright again,
Wow she says You are very brave
Let’s go down to the town and fit you out
Let’s go to Bradley’s Barber and get you a shave
All warm and smooth, all lathery
And a warm flannel on your face
I’ll give you a buttery kiss on the lips
If you’ll just pick up the pace
Us cow girls are strong ya know
We bail in the fields 9 til 3
But you’re a heavy thing
Guess we ain’t as strong as we used to be
But  please don’t think that
We’re all lipstick and gloss
She begins to laugh softly
We ain’t afraid to go into the moss
And get our hands *****
No sir, it will never be that way
As long as there’s a Bud at the end
That will be the perfect sort of day
Do I have a suitor? Hahaha oh you
I think I scare them all out of town
I just like riding in old pickups
And watching the sun go down
From mama’s veranda on the porch
I will go *****-tonking all over town
But as much as I like a game of pool
I don’t need no man to hold me down
I just liking living in nature
And I like just living free
And if a guy can’t take that
Well that guy ain’t for me
There’ s a lot I want to see
There’s a lot I want to do
And do I need to be tied down?
No, said the old man, it’s true.
There’s very few women left
That think the way you do
Oh stop it she says, your flattery
It’s a nice try, but coffees are still on you.

Girl, why don’t you kiss me like that?
Is it because I’m dirt poor?
Is it cos I love to chase white-tailed bucks
Country ain’t country any more
And it’s fast becoming that way
I can’t see anyone on the country dance floor
They all want something from the city
They all want something more
Everyone’s looking everything
They’re locking their windows, their doors
It’s a shame that a way of life is fast disappearing
Country isn’t country any more
I’m sorry if you don’t like riding up in *****
Riding with my dog up in the trailer of my GMC
Business in the front, party in the back
That’s the way it has always been
What’s going on with the world today?
They’re cutting down the trees, off go the deer
That was our livelihood not our blood sport
Old Tony’s Gut Rot has been replaced with import beer
Here comes the cheap and the easy from the city
It all just seems to be happening so very fast
And despite all the green land left free
I somehow believe that it isn’t going to last.
As the houses goes up and the trees go down
I feel that my patience is wearing thin
Don’t kiss me, I won’t miss you, baby
First slum of Europe, a role it won’t be hard to win.

He’s standing in front of me
Wearing a ten-gallon hat
And I think, take it off
You’re in the city, you look like a prat
But it’s only when you get a talking
That you really begin to understand
He may be an old cowpoke
But he’s really worked the land
Sweating in the midday sun
With a little cowgirl on the side
A smile flashes across his face
A knowing that he can’t hide
Yes I’ve drank in smoky barrooms
I’ve taken a few hotties on the lash
I’ve seen clear mountain mornings
I’ve even railed with Johnny Cash
So don’t judge me by the tatty hat
Or by my faded wrangler jeans
Because looks can be deceptive
When everything’s not as it seems
I’ve seen the world, I’ve been to town
I’ve know the love on a woman’s breath
I don’t mean to bone, but leave me alone
Now while I collect my redundancy cheque.

For Lucinda*

I tightened my bandana
On my sun-kissed skin
I rubbed my three-day beard
God, I need a shave
God, I was going god knows where
I thought I was heading for old El Paso
As I picked my pack from the floor
But I stopped as I started for the door.
Life is just empty
When you’re walking alone.
So wherever you’re going, girl
I want to go there with you.
I sit there and watch you sleep
So innocent and so peaceful.
Last night’s cherry lipstick
Last night’s Vanilla *****
You gave me the freedom to stay; Lucinda
I could ramble a thousand miles
But what Good would it do?
I’d still hurt in the old familiar way
I’d just be sweating
I could go coast to coast, seaboard to seaboard
And never find the light
But the light’s right here, in your eyes,
You gave me the freedom to stay.
I sit on the bed and just look
Look at you in awe
What’s the point in chasing a falling star?
When the light’s in your heart
Why keep on running, when here you are?
I could ramble a thousand miles
And never see the light in your eyes again.

Come and step into the room
Everything you need is here
But look, over there
Everything you fear is here
It’ll be okay just
Come and hold my hand
Squeeze it tight
I’ll help you understand.
Why I’ve brought you here
To the corners of your mind
Where the light doesn’t get in
This is what you’ll find.
It’s her isn’t it?...
She’s hurting you softly inside
It really eats away at you
Forgiveness is not forthcoming you wonder why
I brought you here tonight
Beneath the grieving moon
To let you know you can let go
Maybe not today, but soon.
You’ll be all right
Just don’t let broken promises put a tear in your eye
Travel safely through this heartbreak
You just have to go forward and know you tried

Honey there’s a lot of things I’ll drink to
Because a lot of things seem the same
But I know when I’m in trouble
Because you call me by my name

I’m not much of a sun bather
More a fighting man instead
And when you get on my fighting side
I’d rather stay home in bed

Staring up at the ceiling
Praying that I don’t die
Or worse you’ll catch me first
Instead of staring at the sky

And topping up your tan
Please don’t think it’s a shame
It’s the life I love to live
Drinking by other people’s names

You can call me D or Hinton
Or maybe something a little more out of choice
It’s all the same really to me
It’s only words put together by a voice


But darling when your voice gets angry
Whether we be drinking or playing cards
That’s when your voice really hits me
And the words come down oh so hard

I could deal with you never calling me
I’m just an outlaw you couldn’t tame
But this lion turns into a mouse
When I hear you call my name

I just have this inkling, that the only time
I’ll hear Daniel Stuart Hinton, per se
Is when Jesus has his glorious
Final judgement day

Because you never ever call me
And I really think I could deal with the pain
But I know I’ve done something wrong
When you call me by my name.

" Каменное дно - фундамент, на котором я построил свой успех"
Дж.К. Роулинг
Я просыпаюсь утром, и, слава Богу, я - русский. Как и все, (нет, я говорю о  большинстве россиян, живущих за границей), когда я живу на Родине, то не могу дождаться отъезда, а как только уезжаю, жду своего возращения.
Каждое утро похоже на предыдущее: я встаю, я иду к святой иконе и благодарю  Бога за то,  что я жив. Как и многие современные россияне, я благодарю моего собственного Бога, как метросексуалный мужчина, мужчина мира. Будучи русским, чувствую себя самим собой,  горжусь своей верой, своей душой, своей жизнью. Я думаю, что так было всегда.
Я встаю с постели. «Борис», - говорю, (потому что Борис – это я), «Смотри на этот прекрасный мир снаружи, холмистую африканскую саванну. «Борис»,  - говорю я, большинство россиян всегда обещают себе, что они уедут из России навсегда в поисках лучшей жизни, и никогда этого не делают. Может быть, это говорит что-то об этой великой стране, которую я люблю. Или, может быть, это говорит что-то о русской душе. Оба ответа приемлемы.
Встаю в моем жилете и трусах, стою на веранде. Я смотрю на Божьи творения: холмы, пение попугаев, тропических животных, кружащих высоко надо мной. Это далеко от России: высокие бетонные здания, города, лишенные своей истории. Здесь история идет прямо к вашим ногам.
Я делаю глоток кофе и потягиваюсь в лучах утреннего солнца. Моя кожа, белая, как сибирский снег, до сих пор горит от вчерашнего приключения в джунглях. Моя кожа никогда не приспособится к такой жаре здесь, в самом сердце Африки. Здесь в стране третьего мира.
Я прислонился к белому дверному косяку, облезшему от жары. Я наклоняюсь и играю несколько тактов Бетховена на пианино. Мои пальцы бегут по клавишам. Здесь все устали, все здесь утрачено. Все, что здесь живет - в прошлом. О, как я скучаю по русской душе!
Но как ни странно, это все, о чем я скучаю. Я не чувствую, как чувствовал когда-то, когда я, побывав в Киеве, скучал по матушке России. Это не то же самое. Вот это новая жизнь. Я - русский мужчина, живущая в Африке. Я с тоской думаю о разнице между русской и африканской душой. Я выхожу на улицу, чтобы накормить жирафов и попугайчиков, я выхожу, чтобы оставить несколько крошек для обезьяны, которая всегда появляется у моей двери. Когда существует столь много различий между нашими душами, одно остается неизменным: лелеять небогатую, но драгоценную еду.
Тем не менее, это не рассказ о былых днях. Золотой век. Сегодня Золотой век, как золотое солнце, которое заходит. Я, наконец, взял прыжок - прыжок веры; в отличие от многих передо мной. Я чувствую себя хорошо. Я заканчиваю играть Бетховена, и я позволил звенящим нотам исчезнуть в четырех коричневых стенах; стены из грязи - не стали и бетона.
Бонголэнд, как и любая другая африканская страна, страдала от бедности и деспотизма. Это продолжалось до тех пор, пока в один прекрасный день все африканские люди, уставшие от нищеты и убожества, не пришли в себя и убежали. Они бежали куда угодно - в море, в джунгли; как персонажи из стихотворения Маяковского. Это оставило верховного правителя наедине со своим богатством. Он владел своим богатством, но вернулся к вечной проблеме: у него не было над кем властвовать и впечатлить таким богатством. Таким образом, он стал действовать рационально. Он продал с аукциона освободившиеся земли и острова, и пусть белые европейцы и евразийцы живут здесь. И вот я здесь. Белый и русский, насколько это возможно.
Я живу на моем собственном острове, первые цены  "для продажи"  были очень разумными. Так, ухватившись за возможность, я использовал свои финансы, чтобы купить этот остров и уехать из России. Я не совсем один. Я живу здесь с верховным правителем. Он живет на острове Черепа. Мы живем в гармонии до тех пор, пока я белый и имею столько денег, сколько и он; у него нет надо мной власти.
Да, и как у всех русских, у меня есть таинственный кот, который приходит ко мне в гости. Его зовут Гоголь.
Я беру газету с имперских времен, когда Британия управляла колониями и этими водами. Вижу черно-белый комикс на центральной странице. "Кот в шляпе". Я смеюсь над ее простотой и откровенной «английскостью». Ниже картинки эта надпись:
"Иногда вопросы сложны и ответы легки".
Доктор Сьюз.
Совершенно верно. Простота очень важна. Я считаю, что мы усложняем жизнь слишком много. Моя комната, например, четыре неукрашенные стены. Есть журнальный столик со старой газетой и книгой Воннегута, голая кровать, фото моей бывшей жены и видом на джунгли. Вот и все. Это очень монашеская жизнь. Но я люблю это. Я думаю о том, как моя жена ушла от меня. В те дни, простота была бы очень полезна, как понятие. Например, я должен был знать, когда замолчать и когда уйти. Мне также следовало знать, что когда женщина уходит - она редко возвращается.
«Что сделано, то сделано», - писал Шекспир. Я умываюсь в раковине. Я позволяю холодной воде струиться по моим щекам. Дорогая… ты не выключила воду, когда оставила меня. Он идет из моих глаз. Я вытираю лицо и выхожу на веранду и делаю растяжку.
Юлия. Что за девушка! Я никогда не забуду тот день. когда ушла с другим парнем. Затем началась паника. Вы отключаете телефон. Я не могу контролировать слезы, которые бегут из моих глаз. Я закрываю глаза и впитываю солнечный свет.
Я снова открыл глаза и сделал глубокий вдох. Дорогая ... Ты заперла дверь и оставила меня на улице, и выбросила ключ прочь. Я выпил стакан сока и потер живот. Вздох. Воспоминания.
Я беру саксофон в углу комнаты, и играю на нем. Я был полумузыкантом еще в России. Я научился играть на саксофоне, и  получил хорошую оценку за фортепиано. Почему нет? Творчество является ключом к жизни. Каждый из нас должен найти свой собственный в ней путь.