Story Ideas

  • Investigate cults and communes 

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Lars the sicko

Kant, Nietzsche, Marx, and Freud. All names going in one ear and out the other as I sit in my weekly German philosophy lecture. The class is taught by Lars, a podgy man in his 50s. His cheeks were always swollen with small capillaries bursting on the surface, creating a map of fine red and purple squiggles. Sometimes he rested his hand on his protruding belly like a pregnant woman as he spouted anecdotes about his life in the eighties and how it somehow related to Freud’s theories on sexuality. He strutted up and down the front of the lecture theatre with such confidence. I always wondered how people did that; I struggle to just walk into that theatre and sit down next to someone I’ve known for two years. I guess when you know what you’re talking about and no one is really listening to you, it’s easy to ramble with ease. I’m very good at making sure I look like I’m paying attention. I doodle in my notebook but ensure that my hand is making jagged movements, never failing to take my e...
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Update

 The past few days have been a complete fuckery. I've gotten over my ridiculous agitation over J's new girlfriend. Yes, I still think about it, but now I don't really give a fuck. He was a total arsehole and the person I fell in love with didn't exist to begin with anyway. Sometimes I think about him, especially when I realize that it's now been 3 years since we met. So much has happened. So much pain from so many things but somehow it went by so quickly. I also get satisfaction out of J taking 3 years to date someone else. But that's another matter.  So, what else has happened recently? Nana died but I am in complete denial over that. When it comes to death, I prefer to pretend that the person is just somewhere else, not in my reality. I wouldn't have seen her anyway whilst studying up north so I'd rather just slowly begin to notice her being gone over years, rather than acknowledge her gaping absence.  I then ended up in hospital for four days last wee...
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