Journeys from the Heart of the Street Writer – part one


In this third take on the column I will be talking about three girls that were a part of my writing career (love) and of my own isolation (self-love) to do it!

I will not name any of these girls by name out of respect for them and I never name any girl that I have ever written about for the same reason.

The first girl I am going to talk about is called: H – and she appeared at the very start of my writing career at the age of 19…

Before she appeared I was already a published writer…

I had two articles, a poem, a story published and my first film screened!

Before she appeared my parents had just got divorced…

My published work was all written in my last family home, with me the only one living there while my parents were going through the divorce process…

I eventually moved into my grannies house (my mother’s mother) and I continued to write in my uncle’s old small bedroom.

Eventually I had a nervous breakdown and spent a few days in a mental health hospital and I even continued to write in there.

When I came out of there I knew I wouldn’t hold down a real job or even a real life for quite some time again…

I saw back then when I stood in my grannies kitchen that ‘being’ or should I say ‘trying’ to be a writer would be my way out of this mess!

Shortly after that I moved into my own flat and continued to write whatever I could…

Yes, of course… there were a lot of women coming through that flat door and old friends and supportive family, but all I wanted to do is ‘write’ and I did.

I was there for about a year and an old friend was out drinking with all of us and he asked me drunkenly if he could move in to get away from his mother.

He also had a lot of family and relationship troubles, but I told him to ask me when he was sober and we would talk about it.

Funny enough, a couple of days later he came to me and asked!

He moved into my flat with a black bin liner and a single mattress into my spare room.

That flat was halfway decorated.

Some of it was painted by my mum and I laid down the carpet myself thanks to the Salvation Army charity.

But, it was liveable.

Basically, everywhere I lived and even now – I never decorate – as long as I have a roof over my head and I can write and sleep there… I’m fine!

After my friend was living with me for almost a year he wanted to move into a flat that was based in our hometown so we were closer to our skating spots.

Of course I agreed and we moved out into this fancy fully furnished flat…

It was beautiful!

I had my room, he had his room, we had the bathroom and we had the kitchen/living room where everyone could chill out.

We were there for a few months and it was a wee creative hub for us all…

I did my writing, my friend played his guitar, and we had his laptop and computer, were we started to make skate films…

While drinking dozens of coffees and smoking dozens of cigarettes and looking like the two sexiest bastards in our hometown with long hair and fashionable beards ha ha!

Now for H to enter:

A few friends of mine wanted to go to a rock night at our local football club…

I got dressed up and I was looking snazzy.

When I entered and bought a pint of Guinness – I turned around and looked into the dance floor and I could see her as bright as that winters moon outside of the club.

I played it cool as we locked eyes and she smiled.

I made my way closer to her while talking my way down the dance floor.

Eventually I got to stand beside her and people I was acquainted with, but we never spoke, but as I spoke to those around us – I looked at her as often as I could and smiled that young virile and energetic smile and she always paid it back… wow!!!!

Unfortunately I had to go for a piss… but I had no idea what was about to happen!

While I was taking a piss in the toilet cubicle (I’m pee shy ha ha) – but when I went to wash my hands my friend said: ‘do you wanna see the tattoo I tattooed on myself on my dick?’ – ‘of course’ I said… he went on to tell me he was scared for about a week thinking he may have given himself aids.

He left, I finished washing my hands, and as I exited the toilet door she was standing waiting on me…

We locked eyes and smiled… she said: ‘I think you’re hot’ – ‘okay’ I said…

She didn’t want to waste any time and asked: ‘do you like me?’

‘I think you are beautiful!’ – I retorted.

She pinned me up against the wall and she started kissing me like I was going to run away from a depression.

I didn’t disagree and I kissed her like the moon fell down and talked some truth to me!

Halfway through the kissed I stopped her – she looked at me and I said: ‘I never, ever want this to stop!’ – She looked at me and smiled a bigger smile than a blooming rose and we continued as long as we could…

The kissed stopped and we walked our separate paths and talked to our friends all about it.

I went looking for her at the end of the night inside and I couldn’t find her.

Then; I moved outside with everyone else and I saw her halfway down the club wall with another guy and it looked like they were having an argument.

I thought to myself: ‘oh, shit! That must be her boyfriend!’

I looked down to her and asked with my eyes if she was okay and she just looked and nodded at me as to say: ‘I’m sorry.’

When I walked home on my own and not knowing were my friends where: I lay down on our sofa and wrote a little something about her in my ‘ideas notepad’ hoping it may spark a new piece of work for me but… all I really knew looking out the window at that 1am sky is… that all I wanted was: HER!!!!

Back then I wasn’t on any social media channels…

All I had was a basic mobile phone (buttons) and the library across the street from us to check my emails and I thought I would never see her again.

It was about a month later and there was another rock night on but it was in one of our local bars (the one my flatmate worked in).

I decided to get dressed up again and go: and it was the best thing I ever did!

When I entered into the music: there she was, as beautiful as ever and there was other guys flirting with her and trying to chat her up and I just smiled.

I went to the bar and got a pint of Guinness and I exited out to the smoke area and lit up a cigarette and she was standing in front of me with her friends and I said nothing.

She started to walk passed me with her friends as I smoked my luscious cigarette and then I heard her behind me saying: ‘are you never going to speak to me?’

I said: ‘I didn’t know if you wanted to or you were allowed to?’

‘What do you mean?’ she said

‘I didn’t want to upset your boyfriend.’

She went on to tell me that wasn’t her boyfriend at the other rock night, it was just a guy who was pursuing her for quite a while and they had a few kisses but nothing serious!

I told her I had an affair with a married woman not that long ago and I broke up her family unit for a bit and I vowed I would never do that again.

She told me there was nothing that extreme to worry about.

I asked her if I could have another one of her gorgeous kisses again.

‘Can we do it in the corner because I don’t want him to find out by anyone here?’

‘Of course I replied.’

We kissed again like the night would end too quickly!

Near the end of the night she said she had to go home.

I told her I would take her home, thanks to one of my mates that drove.

It was a winter’s winter with snow and ice all over the place and it was as beautiful as her.

When you get a winter like that it’s as if an angel blew her saliva on it.

I love those winters and I knew I could fall in love with her and I knew she felt the same about me… No Fucking Doubt!!!!

When we dropped her off she told me she was trying everywhere online to find me and told her she would have a hard job because I wasn’t online.

But it was such a beautiful sentiment known that she was trying to find me like the way I was trying to find her in our streets with lost eyes without her.

I kissed her under that winters moon and as she walked away I knew something so poignant was about to happen us that none of us will ever comprehend…


To be continued…



(Little Boy Poetry Film)











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