Identity Verified Thinker in Arts / Literature / Contemporary
Sean Urquhart
Sean Urquhart
I am an experienced writer who has worked across a variety of mediums including: screenplay, script editing, prose, poetry,and novelization. I am particularly interested in psychogeography and the scope it gives both academics and creative writers to effectively trade elements of their fields.
 

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Jan. 27, 2010 5:50 am
I could practically see the ghost shirts of Wovoka and the slaughter of the innocents mingling with the back-handed revenge of the fortunate few with access to gambling rights and the public's amnesiac revisionist craving for herbal medicines and folktale cures. The few lines of ethereally delivered poetry as blazen, as epitaph as motivational speech did however work as togetherness crosses all...  Read More
Jan. 27, 2010 5:12 am
The face was pocked with self abuse: A facial shrine to messrs Whyte and MacKay. 25 years of frontline hassle, Fare dodgers, Toilet hiders, Drunks from across the social spectrum; Rugby homo-erotic scrums slumming it on cheap lager, Ayr races cardboard gangsters conspicuous slugging Kristal. Same difference, same end result, Question and answer sessions that terminate, In a kick or a punch, Flesh...  Read More
Jan. 27, 2010 5:09 am
Corporate noise pollution assaults the eyes and ears as 24 hour deliveries in next door's supermarket loading bay beams headlights through windows and idling engines rattle vindaloo sphincter-like. Still awake. After hours souped-up techno-blasting NEDs shout obscentities at volume from the yard below the kitchen, the no man's land between the sodium light blazing service station and the data...  Read More
Jan. 27, 2010 5:07 am
I'm contemplating an escape, Another one. Off to pastures old, Off on the somnambulist's outing, Hallucinatory sleep-deprived euphoria, Train journeys popped up on expensive beers, And inexpensive rites of passage, Elliptical conversations, That count for nothing, In a world of trash, Truthful trash, But trash nevertheless. The beauty is in the movement, Kinesis for its own sake.  Read More
Jan. 27, 2010 3:36 am
(*Author's note: This is an idea that Gareth Rice started on his nice wee blog http://www.exhibitionatrocity.blogspot.com/ , taking an alphabet letter a day and putting up whatever word came to mind from the forefront of your memory banks. With that in mind, I'm going to attempt a 26 word tale from the alphabet letters in sequence, here goes...) A. Another B. Barely C. Conscious D. ...  Read More
Jan. 14, 2010 3:34 am
20mgs of Sertraline shouldn't do that, but it did. A stone and a half dropped, whilst nights were drenched in dead man's sweat. NO. Silently screaming, paintings of constantly stifled screams rendered as landscapes as one reclines on a chair for hour upon hour of flickering, macular degenerating oscillation, 'phone constantly fed a pulse of insistent ring tone every 30 seconds it's idle. NO. I...  Read More
Jan. 13, 2010 1:55 am
The ammunition looked good in its glass case. So did the tin helmet and gasmask. A peacetime tribute to the last just war. The collecting tin on the bar was for the forces. The stifled screams of Iraqi children were stilled with a warm pint of bitter and a look at the cricket scores. Restoring order, that was the purpose of foreign adventures with George and now Barack. Bring them our religion of...  Read More
Jan. 12, 2010 5:37 pm
The waterfall remains as somnolent as it did 15 years ago. That summer of stolen ecstasy on the run from the forces that be. The wines of self-seduction were never too far away from my lips and the insanity of pursuing the quarry of desire was all one-way masquerading as consent. Hooked into dependency. Love as opioid, easy done, a quick capitulation on a night with John Barleycorn in attendence...  Read More
Jan. 3, 2010 2:44 am
After a constant feed of irradiated text he was ready to kill any notion of outside . Outside was weather, atmosphere, ozone, hissing traffic and people .With the narcotic lull of heating at an ambient temperature, small food intake and numbing alcohol, he could watch what was left of his perception of the world through the one portal: the 14x10 inch dimensions of the screen. Even though he had...  Read More
Dec. 27, 2009 7:00 pm
It was there in headline, byline, cheap jack daydream; Your own personal failure. The decade of retread, atomisation, And a united sense of amnesia. The future shock was revealed as more of the same; An elevated, technology-laden chaining to self-interest, More communication devices meaning less actual communication. The virtual supplants the virtuous? I'm living in a Cap Gras present, I've been...  Read More
Dec. 24, 2009 7:49 pm
The first drink flows sweetly over the thrapple; slight dyspepsia and then the contented reflux. The mild warmth spreads, a mild palpitation, the emotional response is nicely dulled. No panic. The second drink will prove the law of diminishing returns and merely provide a blanket of security and slightly misfiring synapses. The third and forth? Well I'm not there yet, but the slurring and...  Read More
Dec. 24, 2009 6:43 pm
It's in the nothingness that I find myself; swimming through the phermones, real and ersatz, competing with the too-loud karaoke to mouth misfiring one-liners, in those beyond corpus moments I view a future as my free carbon atoms are at one with all the others in the multiverse. Universe seems to small an area to traverse, too one-directional. As a Finnish version of The Streets of London fades...  Read More
Dec. 20, 2009 2:58 pm
"A vaulted ceiling that reaches to Andromedan heights. Voices mouthed the mythos of death and rebirth. The grey air vibrated with human electricity; all science so far. Alienated from each other with personal gods in various forms in their minds, the congregation speaks not as one but with the fractured vocals of divergent and hymning personal fantasies. The Lysergic dusk envelops as the distance...  Read More
Dec. 16, 2009 7:01 pm
In the amphetamine rush swiftness of an intercity capsule, becoming one with the mass of plastic, metal, glass and electricity is both comforting and dehumanising. Overheard snatches of dialogue, some almost demented keeps the fear going. Fear of the other. In an atomised world, virtual contact becomes ever more palatable to the real; almost keeping oneself at bay as well as others from the...  Read More
Dec. 13, 2009 1:29 pm
The classic roaring fire, with the patriarch of the pub sitting full bellied like a Malaysian Buddha, his overfed goitre-eyed King Charles Spaniel doing the rounds of the other customers like a courtier. Julie, Keith and I had headed here for some light relief, avoiding the chain pub, the newly minted gastro pub and the other market square boozers. The Old Three Tuns; classic English pub...  Read More
Dec. 6, 2009 7:05 pm
Routinized; busy for busy's sake. Keep the upgrades coming, Keep out of the gutters, Out of the margins, Maintain a blank facade. Cultivate a low profile, Elevate bad manners to an art from, Inarticulacy as a badge of honour, Celebrate nothing, Unless there's a tape-cutting celebrity in tow. What is there left then? Slow dissolve to eternity's waiting room; Anaesthetic TV feeds, The constancy of...  Read More
Dec. 6, 2009 6:58 pm
I saw him in my line of vision; Madness incarnate, Worse than I'd remembered. He shouted, sound whirling shopper's heads, Drawing unwanted attention, Moving centre stage, High Street refugees part poly bags, As he reaches me, babbles hilarious nonsense, Laughs maniacally, goitre eyes bulging, Unhealthy cannabis-toking pallour, Psychosis on the wind, I nod, Try, but fail to land his kiting prose  Read More
Dec. 6, 2009 6:53 pm
Swimming through a tide of my own filth; Filth of my own making. Filth of the past, present and non-future. It's only the mid-life; only a number Plenty of time I tell myself, Time to see myself out of the mire, Self-imagined, self-realised, At least I am still afloat, My poor dead friends, I will never hear their voices, Or perhaps I will, In some other sense, Where time doesn't matter, And age...  Read More
Dec. 6, 2009 6:47 pm
Nothing rushed; the fact that I was leaving some beer in my glass at 245AM on a Monday seemed to give her cause for concern, I was speeding up the departure, when I could easily have drank all night in her engaging and intelligent company. The bar had been akin to a Parisian salon as we covered everything from domestic violence to Native American literature. I knew parting, this being the final...  Read More
Dec. 6, 2009 6:37 pm
Palliative techno reverberates through the teeming street; pissed-up Germans in full Ibiza fig, Lapp weekend happiness seekers escaping the rural fastness congregate round an alfresco pizza. Myself and G dip in and out of the fleshpots in this haven of hedonism. Although it's 3AM, there is a civilised restraint, although drink has been downed with an Olympian enthusiasm; no fear of violence, only...  Read More
Dec. 3, 2009 11:16 pm
I was convinced I was already dead. I had reanimated myself so many times, that it seemed absurd that I was still inhabiting this corpus. New York had been forgiving enough to let me out of its maw and crawl back to my home town to watch people that I love die and for me to become numbed beyond my own comprehension. Occasionally the tears flowed. Often I mistook them for the drink that...  Read More
Dec. 3, 2009 2:09 am
"I couldn't breathe for smiling. I was still inside her. A rictus had overwhelmed my entire body. Back where I started. In an alleyway at the back of The Apollo where I could see Neil Stewart's graffito from 1982. Knees buckled and I realised where I was. On my own, at home and the 7 O'clock pitch blackness of the interminable Scottish winter. Remininscence had gone awry, re-writing history would...  Read More
Dec. 3, 2009 2:00 am
"Purgatory; an old Catholic remnant of a fearful past. Gazing up at the arcane symbols of the phoenix, springing forth from a cauldron, I used to shudder with panic at the concept of eternity. Now, I welcome it....... time enough to devote to decadent ambient pursuits of the purely aesthetic?" I listened to this sentence, downed a pint and smiled at Cornelius Patrick Murphy's perfectly serious...  Read More
Dec. 3, 2009 1:37 am
And sometimes I forget to breathe, Asthmatic age-old immune system disorders, The legacy of one-time poverty, The lungs wheeze despair, Anxiety. It's only in the edit that I can claw back some control; Fictive personal histories collide with versions of self, Other people's nonsense opinions, Some sense of roots, In the darkroom of the Real.  Read More
Dec. 3, 2009 1:30 am
Selling papers, manning stalls that celebrate the crushing of the soul of the human. Pol Pot's halo of skulls appearing like a calyx around your head, as talk of Marxist education classes and more marches against presumed fascists are mooted. It's all a question of sides. The Old Firm. Stalin vs Hitler. Reduxed communist ideology for the fast-twitch generation. T-shirts proclaiming victory in the...  Read More
Dec. 3, 2009 1:01 am
He couldn't keep still. His hyper-kineses was the polar opposite to my stasis. I watched him as he carried out similtaneous conversations, juggling relationships, as I took the other, more sedate path. The kinesis for me, was internal, hours spent with storms of ideas with no lightning rod to earth them. Sleep overcame me. And all the while, sonnets were achingly eased from tight and tired...  Read More
Dec. 3, 2009 12:46 am
I wouldn't want youth back again; Murky middle age is none-too different, The filter is perhaps greyer.  Read More
Dec. 2, 2009 8:43 pm
Slow-cooked; A neat correlation, Sealed in your own fat, Left for dead. Economically unproductive? It was only natural we should turn to ourselves for sport, Long pigs after all, aren't we? Boredom begets savagery  Read More
Dec. 2, 2009 8:34 pm
1. Silvery Tay-refracted light patterns that made the suicide dive look like a human action painting. 2. His stomach leaped as she cleaned his fingernails on the taxi ride home, the intimacy overwhelming him. 3. Fingers arthritically, painfully held onto the whisky glass as she calmly recited The Koran. 4. Lives almost ground to a halt as all forms of media ceased to be. In a cave in Stranraer, a...  Read More
Dec. 2, 2009 8:20 pm
Narrowed eyes take in large green orbs, Questions rally. Idiot quotations seal a deal, A fate is never truly decided, It's a two-way street, Forming futures mock the pair, But it was an electro-chemical reaction, That the unreal madness overtook, Sullied. Sorry. Sure. The way back home is littered with romantic grenades.  Read More
 
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