The Cerebral Catalyst

Up Longbenton stairs I paddle. Hooker's green, complexion of sea, sheen of bottles, chroma under leaves shaking at the skylight, slick paintwork. Number 27, letterbox midriff, dull would-be silver, two twists to admittance.

Joel said he had been seized by devils. Sage and mushroom horror-heads fell pell-mell clamouring about his ears. Paper irk-notes, ten thousand dollars, run off in taunts, a blast, hell's discharge, each smeared furrow burning on his throbbing brow.

Mercury, 36 million miles from sun-disc. Jesmond, walking range, sloped, a constellation, warm comfort, books, posh capsized cadences alien to the slush of Tyne. Just a visitor, unaccustomed to forenoons, nebulous calm, cats parading Egyptian poses, hypnotic trickle, flower-bed tropical fish tank, globular movements slowed.

At 4 a.m. it stood grandly, 2 acres. Skillfully hired help took it all in hand, gliding a massive banister, an alchemy of patience, laying fully-fitted kali like experienced choux chefs, juggling superbly bits, bobs. Radiant sunlight filtered through milk-spun curtains; I woke to a rattle, the cheap alarm, grabbed a quick coffee, went to sign on.

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Christopher Barnes won a Northern Arts writer's award in 1998. He's read at Newcastle's famous Morden Tower and the Proudwords Lesbian and Gay Writing Festival. His collection Lovebites was published by Chanticleer Press in 2005. He is currently working on a radio programme for Web FM, as well as a collaborative art and literature project called How Gay Are Your Genes, for The Hatton Gallery, Newcastle University. In May 2006 he had a solo art/poetry exhibition at The People's Theatre. His BBC webpage can be found here.

posted 04.23.07.

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Site founded May 7th, 2003, by Project Catalyst.
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