-an OD of Love-

Right, let’s address the genius argument I keep hearing: “You’ve been telling us about this doom and gloom since March 2013. But it never materialised!!!!!” Yes, well done. You’ve spotted that the sky hasn’t fallen yet   That’s not proof of economic brilliance, that’s proof you’ve got the observational skills of a goldfish. Debt isn’t a thunderstorm. It doesn’t arrive with a crash of lightning and a loud bang over Castille. It creeps. It lingers. It builds up quietly in the background, like cholesterol in your arteries, until one day, bang, heart attack. And you’ll be sat there, wide-eyed, saying, “But I thought pastizzi were fine, I’ve been eating them since 2013, and I’m still standing.” What we’ve got here is the economic version of that. Successive governments dishing out freebies, cheques, handouts, subsidies, anything to buy a smile, a vote, or at the very least a Facebook “like”. And where does the money come from? Not from a magical tree sprouting €50 notes in Castille’s ...

A few weeks ago, at a music festival full of people who smell like compost and regret, someone asked me how work was going. Without thinking, I replied, “I’m decentring work.” Photo by pen_ash Now, to most people, that sounds like I’ve joined some sort of spiritual cult where we wear linen trousers and hum at sunrise. In reality, it just means I’m working less and lying down more. Apparently, this is part of something called “the rest revolution,” which is a cultural shift where doing nothing is considered not just acceptable but aspirational. Like a Rolex but without the time-keeping or the €20,000 bill. It is fuelled by trendy buzzwords like “quiet quitting,” “micro-retirement,” and my personal favourite, “lazy boy jobs” which all translate to I’m sick of flogging myself for pennies while Jeff Bezos buys another yacht. And they’re right. We’ve reached the point where many jobs demand more hours, more stress, and more meetings about meetings, but give you less money, less stability, ...

At some point, usually after a hangover, a breakup, or a speeding ticket, we all decide that it's time to become a “better person.” Whatever that means. We picture ourselves as less angry, more generous, perhaps someone who volunteers at a soup kitchen and doesn’t shout at printers. But we immediately run into a problem: we haven’t the faintest idea what “better” even looks like. Are we meant to start yoga? Hug strangers? Stop flipping people off in traffic? Nobody says. Now, the world is stuffed full of lifestyle gurus who’ll tell you to journal, meditate, juice kale, or swim with dolphins. But the truth is, self-improvement doesn’t come from reading books or listening to people who use the word “authenticity” unironically. It comes from doing . And more importantly, not being a complete arse . So, what does being a “better” human actually involve? For a start, stop being awful to other people. Revolutionary, I know. Try treating people with respect, not because it’s spiritual,...

The pounding heart, it starts to race, A brand-new mask, a different face. It hides behind the daily news, Shifting truths and worn-out views. The ache today’s not hard to trace— Just miles away from my own place. From where I’d greet the break of dawn, But now that road feels far and gone. It’s a flight that cuts the sky, Then dives beneath where eagles fly. On this long and endless ride, In a world that dances then tries to hide. It’s a flight that sinks, not soars, With rusted wings and bolted doors. I’m nailed against this empty wall— And now I barely feel at all. No, I’m not a hero, Not one with stars to claim. I’m not a hero, Just one more lost name Since the war went down in flame. I sleep in fog, in silver-grey, Where fallen trees just rot away. And dreams that chased the wind at night, Collapse before they take their flight. Oh, what a weight, what bitter luck— To trip just past the final truck. From all the fear I tried to hide, From all the pain I...