Ben's blog

In a café, at 9am, between a middle-aged man and a young lady seated by the window:

- are you enjoying it?
- er...
- do you know what it means?
- 'my struggle.'
- actually, it's 'my journey through life'.
- no, I think it is 'my struggle'.
- well, 'my struggle through life'.
- hmmm.
- so are you enjoying it?  read more »

A snooty waiter with a derisive French accent: the perfect complement to our meals. The three of us, young men, all straight, enjoying the possibility of a romantic dinner without the tantalising terror of carnal tension. The established conditions of design-based romance were all there; dim lighting, wooden tables, candles, comprehensive wine lists with fine local selections.  read more »

Five dollars. And it’s a terrible glass of wine, too; I’m not even sure the cardboard it came from would taste this bad. But habits become rituals, and rituals are important. I like to have a glass of red wine on stage with me, even if I rarely ever drink from it mid-set. But this time it might well come in quite handy.  read more »

The road was wide, and long. I still had quite a way to walk. I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I turned my head, and saw a man. He was tall and slim, reasonably well dressed, and seemed to be following his own direction. He was moving quite a lot faster than me. He probably hadn't had the night I'd had. I moved to the left, ready for him to overtake me.  read more »

The whisper beckoned, quietly. As it got quieter, I knew it was moving; as it moved, I followed. I wasn't paying attention, but I knew I was walking in a straight line. The path became increasingly well-lit. The whisper became louder. I stopped.  read more »

It started with a scream. A loud, piercing wail, the force of which nearly sent me stammering toward the floorboards. It was a scream of excitement, of adventure, with what appeared to be a mild form of panic. It was beckoning me to follow, although I didn't know where. It was stunning, and magnetic; it spoke of joy and pleasure and comfort. Yet still I rebelled. I held firm, remained silent.  read more »

Michael Jackson had died. It was the great shock of the inevitable. The question was not whether Jackson would die young - of that we could be sure - but how, and when. In the end, it seemed like time chose well. Earlier and Jackson could have escaped trials and bankruptcy, of course.  read more »

The postman used to arrive once a day, but now he arrives constantly. Every minute of every day, always by the door, always lifting up the small handle of the letterbox. From his never-ending knapsack he is always pulling out a bundle of letters to read. At least, I imagine this is how it works. Actually, nobody has ever seen him. Having a postman always nearby can be exhilarating.  read more »

Well, having reached the other side of yet another weekend, I now have a new message in my mobile phone's inbox. A new message featuring only the name of a famous comedic character, followed by an exclamation mark. I figure I should explain that. Just in case I ever come across that again and do a double-take.  read more »

I stand at the bar, and wait. I let others through, always smiling, always affable. No, you were here first, I lie. I know what I want. I wait until I get the right bar girl, the one who always gives me cheap drinks. No, you were here first, I lie again. I throw around a deceitful smile, and hold my fire.  read more »