It’s Monday morning and… IT’S ALIVE! The first day of a brand new week and I’m determined to start it the right way; by appreciating a handful of the people who have restored my faith in humanity after a period when it has dealt out some considerable knocks. Without the following souls, I’m not certain I would be sat here right now, sweltering in the kind of airless midday humidity only the United Kingdom seems capable of producing. Seriously, it’s like the Red Planet out there and, like Arnie, I don’t traditionally do at all well in these kind of conditions. However, I do have myself a writing project and that happens to be all I need to brave the conditions and pay it forward some.

I adore this pastime. You see, it’s in my nature to spread goodwill and the past five years have taught me the art of giving not to receive. Let’s not sodomize the Easter Bunny just yet, I’m like an excitable infant the very second I sniff out a treat. But it cannot hope to comparing with the feeling of raising aloft the spirits of another. My case in point is this – I am an eighteenth-century whore for Storm watches and have myself a favorite timepiece which I wear religiously. However, while recently having greasy pizza with my beloved sister, I suddenly had no further need for it. I looked across the table at this magnificent creature, discerned the comprehensive joy in her button bright face, and thought – we can do even better than that Freckles. And do you know what? We bloody well did.

Her utterly sincere reaction spoke in so many volumes to me. It was as though I was handing her the Lost Ark and I was a little concerned that her face might melt off into her meat feast. The funny thing is – she probably would’ve kept on snarfing it down with a big grin on her skull. After all, what’s a bit of dermis between stuffed crusts? Let’s just say she was bowled the fuck over and mark it shall we. My work here was evidently done. For she floated on air back to the train station that day and I fully endorse the levitation of loved ones.

We are family, my freaky fucking sister and me. And they do say charity starts at home. Which is precisely where I felt as I rested my head on her shoulder while we made deeply inappropriate jokes about an advertising billboard like brother and sister would. A Richard without a Storm watch is still a Richard. Better yet, A Sharon with a Storm watch is a child again. Just as I had planned. And the Lionheart in my chest earned itself a warm glow so I too gleaned interest from the transaction. Certain memories we make will remain with us for our entire lives. This was one such memory. And it all came from her simply seeing me. Thank you Freckles, so far beyond boundlessly. For your honest and generous soul is infinitely appreciated and cherished. 

Recently, I skimmed a package across the pond to my beloved bride-to-be and it was an adoring random collection of all things me. Tossed together like a Greek Wedding Salad, I wished for it to animate the wide-eyed child excitedly putting it together. And, after being fiscally raped at my local post office, “the package” commenced its supposedly four to seven-day quest to the promised land. You ever tracked a delivery to the one you love with every strand of fur on your back and front? It’s a bittersweet affair with all the saccharine back loaded into one almighty release of four to seven days of crippling anxiety. Will it make it? When will be its time? Could the UPS man suffer a myocardial infarction while out on his errands? Gods, perhaps the damn Jackals will get it. Mercifully, it turned up in four days and I wish the UPS man a speedy recovery. Oh, and go easy on the merchandise next time you drop off a bundle, will you Jackals?

I knew precisely how feverish my twin flame would be on receipt of the package and therein lay my hingeless excitement. The very second her doorbell rang, it was Christmas morning on both sides of the Atlantic. For her beautiful slender fingers touched something which had been very much blessed with magic by its Keeper four days prior. Needless to say, the energy was downright electric. And it is this dignified lady who has truly taught me the beautiful art in gestures. Nobody had ever seen my very deepest soul before. She has. Does. As far as gratitude goes, a simple thank you could never dream of cutting it. But, in another way, I think it does. Thank you. For reintroducing me to me. For every last wondrous thing that you do. For every last wondrous thing that you are. And for every last wondrous thing you have empowered me to be. I am yours to the dust on the bones around my deepest soul’s heart. And deeper still. Seraphic Pericardium ~ ad infinitum.

While we’re on the subject of empowerment, there’s a certain lady I wish to single out for nosebleed inducing praise and her name is Charlotte. I claim a government benefit named Universal Credit and have generally been a little disillusioned with this process since signing up. Well, that was until late Autumn, when Charlotte became my personal case manager. I knew from the nanosecond I laid eyes on her that she was true, real and sincere. Extra-perception is my superpower and, sometimes, you just know. She took a genuine interest in my writing, so much so, that she has taken the time to follow my posts and that has meant so very much to me. For I have needed people to see me. So badly. And the last place on Earth I expected this was the goddamn job centre, if I’m honest. These are traditionally depressing little places, but there was nothing melancholic about this one now that Princess Charlotte had graced the halls.

So tickled was I by her bona fide interest in my story and emotional well-being, that I scribed a letter of appreciation to the powers that be and she has since gone on to become department head. Feels good to know I helped in some way, as it is no less than she deserves having helped me so tremendously over the past few months. My self-belief has taken numerous knocks during that time. But it is fortified thanks to people like Charlotte and no longer needs accept damage. For she believes in me and what I am desperate to achieve, has told me as much as she uplifts by default, and those words mean everything to a simple man like I. Charlotte no longer handles my case, given her huge new workload, but the first thing she did was to hook me up with a similar angel named Di. And now they both watch over me. I see what you did there.

Where do I start with the dear friends and chosen family I have amassed over the past half a decade as Keeper (no disrespect ever meant to my blood family who I will always love unconditionally). As tempted as I am to reel off a laundry list of names, and I really could, I trust that these glorious souls will know precisely who they are. It’s hard when one speaks of the social network as feelings get hurt if names are unintentionally overlooked and I only wish to spread cheer this day. But there are a great number of you out there who have kept me in the game all this time, whether we speak regularly or not. This very much includes those whose paths may have deviated from mine, I am grateful for every last one of you. For I have been a part of something far larger than myself. And that was always my intention.

Some of the kind comments greykeeper have received since December have blown us so far away that we’ve come back round again. For real, you guys say the most beautiful things, and no words bled here could even begin to express our deepest gratitude for the love and support we’ve been shown. We are easily misinterpreted as our prose is brutally honest and live readings often very intense. That’s the thing about performance art – if you put your heart and soul into it – it no longer feels like performance. Those who have been a part of this journey never lose sight of us and this means so much to us both as we remain ever humble and courteous, regardless of a dash of enthusiastic shadow dancing. We shall return soon enough. But the Rivers of Grue shall continue to flow until we do. And that is one big hearty salut to every single last one of you.

Today I have just felt like sitting down and chatting with those I adore, you know? I love that I can do so, that the Crimson Quill can do something to hopefully start a few weeks with a wide smile and warm glow. I may come across as dark at times and certainly surf the shadows on none too rare occasion. Indeed, my persuasion is actually towards darkness, not the light as I previously believed, as it is here where I gain the emotional nutrients I need to become the man I wish to become. You know what? I’m him right now. For I am at peace this day. Great peace. Feel thankful this day. So thankful. And appreciate every last twinkling star in my sky. Right then, time for the Keeper of the Crimson Quill to assume ultimate form in a new improved skin made for two. Have a glorious week, one and all. Filled with all the things which bring you intense joy. Ciao.






  1. are you not posting to twitter any more? we miss you over there. i love the pic you used as the first one. you look good. happy.

    1. Will be soon. Just on a bit of an extended hiatus and preparing to return at some point in the very near future. Thank you Heather, I am very happy, contented and most of all, eternally grateful for the joy life provides me. Thank you for your comment.

  2. This has gone down a Storm whilst listening to the Happy Mondays as I do on a Monday. I’ve been as up and down as a whore’s drawers today …thanks for pulling me and others up with your positivity and gratitude

    1. Freckles, you are so very welcome. Plus, you did the very same for me remember? My mind was similarly blown after the sweetest, most generous of gestures.

    2. … and I see what you did there. Also, whore’s drawers. Miceless Freckles, Miceless!

      1. Thank you my sweet Freckles. My soul dances free on parchment because of a few certain souls who have kept me in the game when I was slipping straight out of it. Precious things deserve to be celebrated.

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