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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Mar. 28, 2012 9:03 am
This was no unsafe domain, the splendid garden of earthly delights revealed many a pleasure in plant form. Flora, so beloved of English gardens. This was no unsafe domain. There were, however, many dangers outside and inside of the heads viewing it. Neuroses. Uncommon family dynamics, affairs of the very being. The human redundant in this spread-of-consciousness, this utter dread. The couple...  Read More
Mar. 27, 2012 7:20 am
Over the wires it is hard to convey a lack of respect for the lack of respect of a friend hurt is often locked into sentences sentences written to other hurt friends a lack of gut communication builds walls starts online spats destroys The Real digital natives is a modern misnomer a disease of intent a disease of language Maybe one can view this from the distance of actual miles ...  Read More
Mar. 27, 2012 7:19 am
Brilliant white mollifying stances We paint walls together as the sun itself gives us the thumbs up collaboration in the brushes and rollers marriage in the application and perfection on the walls and in our hearts two coats of paints two beings as partners romance as a necessary task  Read More
Mar. 27, 2012 7:16 am
It's so easy to create a name, a fable It's so easy to look down from the umpire position a lofty, occluded view Not so easy to empathise or even find a sympatico that requires insight into oneself and no little humility I see no evidence in the barbs of online fools idiots to a man or woman misogynists hiding behind titles and spreading thinly veiled ordure spite small town...  Read More
Mar. 23, 2012 2:44 pm
The streets were filled with relative strangers strangers no less friendly than some of my closest friends One nod of recognition brought the old feelings flooding back the wash of time And it was as uplifting as it could be sometimes going back sometimes to the scene of a supposed disaster area is nothing more than neurosis invented anxiety over preceived slights in amongst the...  Read More
Mar. 23, 2012 2:40 pm
It is said to aid precognition heal bladders and kidneys come from the Archangel Raphael I however found it buried in a Barrhead quarry in the dirt, shining like my loved one's eyes and that for me is more than enough  Read More
Mar. 23, 2012 7:18 am
For family and friends for breath and an earth worth keeping in the state we arrived in it at and not the least to you my other half No enigmas just a simple thank you for all of that  Read More
Mar. 23, 2012 7:15 am
The journey is often more important than the destination and often more illuminating The process is often more enjoyable than the end result I keep travelling in inner and outer space in the hope that the final stop doesn't appear until I feel content content enough to go  Read More
Mar. 23, 2012 7:12 am
No longer seeking solace in pubs or looking for other than a holiday from oneself there No more bending to the whims of the selfish or tedious No more mindless cyncism wrought from years of experience of negativity fostered by those that pull one down for the insane joy of schadenfraude for its own sake The Caledonian cringe is being binned and banished from my psyche Small potatoes ...  Read More
Mar. 21, 2012 7:17 am
He put the och into occult the sic into music He put pain in place of plain the runt instead of the pedigree He laughed all the way home to an empty house  Read More
Mar. 21, 2012 7:17 am
The words fell forth I couldn't lie to an old friend as I could to multitudes of strangers He was right some folk will fall for anything any old hoary cliche spiritual lie stone circle jive talk kaftan wearing hip-i-talists Glastonbury crystal divining scrying into nowt naive teenage enthusiasms continually reaninmated by nihilists looking for a fix of a supposed out there deity an...  Read More
Mar. 21, 2012 7:11 am
The conversation always flowed freely and fast. The Clyde caught us in its undertow, almost dragging me and Sal towards sites of interest. Glasgow was being constantly recast in an odd movie, though no less real than it had been six months previously. It was the usual cosmetic fancying up that Sal and I had viewed since the 1970s. Long gone venerable institutions like the BBC being fished out to...  Read More
Mar. 21, 2012 6:58 am
It's not often I concur with the less stellar, more conservative brother, but in the matter of rock n' roll he is definitely right a delusion a sop, a lollipop substitute for adults as the accountants and lawyers hoover up the cash from the bones of the fabled hotel wrecking dupes  Read More
Mar. 20, 2012 7:48 am
The golden handshake so glad you took it gave you 11 more years of life Imagine if I had advised you to plough on maybe dying in harness in the clerical salt mines of the crumbling civil service A real victory Nothing Pyrrhic about that You got out when the going was good echoes of a gambling grandfathers small bets and small beers and guts brave men unsung those days are back ...  Read More
Mar. 20, 2012 7:40 am
Anger only defeated for a spell supplanted by guilt creeping guilt of the inertia the void of experience never gained Envy only temporarily ceasefired until the next untalented millionaire mocks the poor and stoop-to-conquer bribes a tax-deductable charity a fiscal fake no hard cash the poll tax of the spirit zeit zeit zeitgeist forever the fool in all of these musings meditations...  Read More
Mar. 20, 2012 7:35 am
The unbearable atmospheric pressure 1000 millibars or fewer headaches impending asthma attack general anxiety and fear welcome home welcome to the father and son and whole wretched system the constant reminders of why I finally left The crucifix over the door old fashioned Irish catholic longing for the lands sunderered by the incoming transplanted Scots or Cromwellian overlord ...  Read More
Mar. 19, 2012 7:50 pm
It was a moment preserved in brine. Social vinegar pickling the brains of all who swam in its slipstream. I was paddling out of the whole mess. Junior nodded sagely at my unwanted advice, asking for one thing and receiving another. Enlightenment with a clawhammer. I downturned my mouth, palms up, shrugging, offering physical evidence that it was his affair, not mine. Interfering in others' lives...  Read More
Mar. 19, 2012 6:58 am
The smell was overwhelming. Rank. The smell of decay. Body odour. Oestrogen and testosterone, fighting for supremacy amidst the fake pheremones sprayed onto good foot dancing garb. An olfactory confusion. By the time my meal was delivered, I could hardly catch a breath, as I tried to view the punters. My jetlag dementia. The fish yielded to my fork with a sludgy consistency, fried. The taste was...  Read More
Mar. 19, 2012 6:45 am
When I was a boy, I wanted to be James Bond, the quintessential Englishman, though played famously by a Scot on celluloid. On celluloid, one can be anything one wants, there are no national boundaries, only actors and lines, scenarios, and the director yelling CUT!  Read More
Mar. 19, 2012 6:41 am
It has been a long time in gestation, that thought of economic and social parity, over what is likely to be a notional border. I used to hear the stereotype taunts, especially when I was young and on the few occasions when I was near a deep southern voice. The talk of self determination is all well and good, supposedly sound politics, from qualified mouths, paid advisors and clever, slick...  Read More
Mar. 17, 2012 12:39 pm
The old fears are disappearing. As are the old, nagging, inertia-inspiring doubts. Time has proved to be the great healer. No great fanfares or huge overnight success story. No revelations or loony visionary scheme. Just a simple winnowing away, layer by layer of the greatest fear of them all; the fear of the self.  Read More
Mar. 17, 2012 8:31 am
My time is on loan To preachers, fools, wise ones Who avoid commitment And suck every ounce of talent From a dubious source One has to ask Where does it all go?  Read More
Mar. 17, 2012 8:29 am
Welcome to rivers of green Pints of faked stout And faked accents Stances taken For the sake of remembrance Of a Welsh slave  Read More
Mar. 17, 2012 8:28 am
And so it goes Vonnegut's pithy maxim So true And yet so hard to unpack  Read More
Mar. 17, 2012 8:27 am
The keys don't speak Neither does the screen reveal anything The silence Only the silence And some level of consciousness Reveals what needs to be revealed Reveals what needs to be punted out Is reason enough to type  Read More
Mar. 17, 2012 8:24 am
My notional identity is fading As is my notion of home The thrill of self erasing amnesiac futures The thrill of destroying the now In search of several lives Lives already lived And yet to be hatched  Read More
Mar. 17, 2012 8:21 am
As the 7am hypnagogic state recedes, the realisation that I am still alive is both surprise as well as a sinking dread. I was on the train. Coney Island's winter sun. A numb face and a decent slumber. I'd taken this train as a sleepwalker goes for a midnight piss, without conscious thought. Escapism of the purest, with nothing on my clearing mind. Leaving Peter the Ponce at The OW, a gay hangout...  Read More
Mar. 16, 2012 7:14 am
It was at Western Union that I laid my burden down. A sad one by that time. 4 weeks in NYC. Robbed. Mugged. Hospitalized. And now I patiently waited as the stern madam behind the counter ran through a standard security script. Greenie was watching, sharp brown vole-like peepers seeking out a hot bundle. Overflow. Maybe a $5 bill, maybe nothing, but he stalked the outer edges of the building like...  Read More
Mar. 15, 2012 5:17 pm
I am drifting Beyond my own fluid beliefs Into my own pantomime Either the crass cynic Or the class clown I have never actually been near Where I ought to be A problem for fools and philosophers alike Rooted Drifting Rooted Paradox Yet I only see glimpses Of who I really am Who I was Who I could be The accountant coughs loudly And asks me for a cup of tea  Read More
Mar. 15, 2012 5:13 pm
So much of me was lost that night, the memories are still fresh. Trolleys of the newly dead. Massive head-on collision near King's Cross. Arnold Brown, the Glaswegian comedian hovering over me, smiling benignly and with a face irradiated with humanity. An odd counterpoint to the tragedy so very near us. Strange night. And in those hours we shared a few moments Of utter profundity That now...  Read More
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