Special Report: The Scrapbook of a Bipolar
The reason I am writing this is to help someone who is in the same situation where I found myself eighteen years ago so...
The Afternoon of Shakespeare’s Mind (Part 3)
Perfume. Coming back to you. Half of my life’s work so far has been written in the vein of tragedy and when I have...
Shakespeare’s Nervous Breakdown (Part Two)
I owe people money and I am writing again. I must tell you. I love you my darling. I hope that you are not...
Shakespeare’s Cry in autumn (Part 1)
I am a martyr. My blood twitching in my flesh, every bone, platelet and cell. I know my voice now. It is a claw....
Session with the Psychologist
I plunge into the sudden glare of fury, hysteria and trepidation. There is a primal scream inside each of my hypomanic brain cells. ...
Good advice: Rilke’s Gift to the World
So all I see is young artists and they ask me how they can publish their work, how they can become better writers? It...
Assia Wevill
Journal entry In these early days Assia Wevill needs proof. Will a village life be enough for us? I am planting...
Ingrid Jonker’s Black Butterflies
Let us tell ghost stories. Jonker is a ghost of her former self, but she is still in the land of the living —...
Optimism for the Elite
Poetry always smelled like spring dirt to me. In the distance, the future imagined like clockwork. Chronic pain is always both an illusion and...
Anne Sexton Renaissance woman
When you are a manic-depressive, you are married to the unction of your fears. Up and down your moods will go....