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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Apr. 30, 2012 7:32 pm
Smiles, Broad and human Broad and welcoming Hugs and pints Recollections of a future date Recollections in a brilliant bubble Of Guinness and joke fueled camaraderie A bond never broken Since a sword was thrown into an Oxford lake Sometime in 1993 We three, we two Will always be one Until we are none  Read More
Apr. 30, 2012 12:04 pm
On the 19th hole Deals are seeded Arcane handshakes exchanged The sport is secondary it would seem  Read More
Apr. 30, 2012 12:01 pm
Folk music once a fist raised in protest, a bulwark against apathy, now employed as anodyne background music, gauzy, hazy anti-depressant-laden useless words bereft of any intent. Or even feeling. Golf takes the place of feeling, football and beer keep the male of the species in statistics and noises off postmortem paralysed analysis of the on the pitch/fairways etc etc action non-activity TV...  Read More
Apr. 27, 2012 7:22 am
Interminable April showers, A National Health Service being farmed out To unscrupulous entrepreneurs And back alley arms deals go unnoticed Mustn't grumble Mustn't grumble Disabled people commit daily suicide in a country that has lost its welfare state gay bashing immigrant taunting continues Mustn't grumble Mustn't grumble Warmonger Blair goes on million dollar lecture tours ...  Read More
Apr. 25, 2012 5:37 am
The deadly haul of traffic rivers of mechanised potential death road traffic casualties outweighing those that are killed with the dreaded gun The deadly stench of nicotine wreaths of chemically enhanced doom tobacco still claims more lives than the tabloid screaming heroin ever will The soothing stench of ethanol increments of toxin in bottle and optic delivered unsafely, unwisely...  Read More
Apr. 24, 2012 7:11 am
There was always a reason to ditch gifts pass them on ignore the possessive nature of materials the Pharaoh buried with his stuff Once the book is read I pass it on Once the music has been heard pass it on small rituals small ways of defeating the system that demands constant feeding Trinkets Mere trinkets the breath in and the breath out is all that really counts  Read More
Apr. 22, 2012 6:39 pm
Bakelite, the odd aroma of almost burning plastic, the tactile wonder at the cardboard sleeves, football sticker albums, first communion gifts, skint knees, split heads, the voices of colloquial now-gone-Scotland, odd phrases no longer acceptable, shibboleths of the ghosts now inhabiting only my brain recalled for ridicule in my second year of exile The old Celtic truancy gambit, ...  Read More
Apr. 20, 2012 5:28 am
It was a constant. The feral atmosphere. Primordial. Eyes seeking out the supposedly weak, to taunt, to ridicule, to kick, spit on, humiliate. To seek and destroy anything remotely different. Anything of beauty. Anything that didn't support the correct football team, wear the apposite corps d' esprit, say the right swear words or hip patter. Conform or be damned. In some cases, dead. The Somme of...  Read More
Apr. 19, 2012 10:41 am
Why does one spend so much time wasting, enervating oneself on pathetic introspective navel gazing in a cul de sac? Well, hard roads and all hard drinking obfuscation for its own sake its own sake Is this where I found myself No, not really just another series of own goals on the way to the notional cup final Well, it is a footballing nation hours spent in post match paralysis ...  Read More
Apr. 18, 2012 1:22 pm
It was infinitesimal just a few words exchanged a universe of hope in one small sentence I damned if I can remember it A rainy day in Ruskin that might have been the catalyst for a 1000 confabulations a 1000 gifts of words a 1000 visits to the local boozer maybe it was a simple look in the eyes an adjustment to the previous harshness or at least what I perceived as harshness ...  Read More
Apr. 17, 2012 9:20 am
I see that the Neo-Cons are at it again Hiding billions for the super rich In the guise of tax breaks and other, more arcane systems of avoidance and yet always speak of the need for personal responsibility whilst the 9/10ths don't produce and don't own the means of production Marx continues to be wrong there's nothing inevitable about socialism More's the pity Bring home the...  Read More
Apr. 15, 2012 4:41 am
The illusion of time passage as we covered a multitude and everything and yet nothing had changed Old friends meeting for the first time and yet we had been through several odd campaigns together and with Chez Three of us Englishman, Scotsman, Welshman with the invisible Irishman aboard like a ghost Guinness aroma on the wind Odd campaigns many a verbal spar ebb and flow of...  Read More
Apr. 14, 2012 4:52 am
It was static time a reunion to end all reunions with the boys from the union Tautology It was better than Play for Today much was relayed whole histories in 3 hours 3 truncated, magical hours It literally transported me back to those heady days In Headington, Oxford and all other points on and off the grid It was a day of highlights stopped the trivial realigned the positive ...  Read More
Apr. 13, 2012 5:31 am
I didn't help myself by my conspicuous nature. Voice a bit loud in the mix, clothes not a good fit, limbs moving with nothing approaching grace of any sort. Descending the stairs at 61st I saw the Queens of reality after so many cinematic and televised reality skews. Down at heel, certainly on this street. Unevenly cambered pavements. Grime in all its vainglorious, teasing varieties. And then the...  Read More
Apr. 12, 2012 3:39 pm
Too many early rises and synaptic burnout. Ped had the cast and the middle distance gaze of the newly released. Section 3 Mental Health Act. Shields Road had many a sad face and optimistic drunk, as well as various shadow enterprises for illegal immigration, the new slave trade, forced marriages and topiary sprouting from ancient shop fronts. Ped gave me his life in 15 minutes as Aysha fixed the...  Read More
Apr. 10, 2012 6:55 pm
It was the passwords and constant need for remembrance of them. Numbers too. Cursed bloody numbers, numbers for National Insurance, National Health, PIN numbers, lost lottery tickets, 11 digit hard-to-memorize mobile phone scrawls on numbered bus tickets. A library of the buggers. In the unlit graveyard the head reeled, head between knees nausea spinning personal circuses of of of silence...  Read More
Apr. 8, 2012 9:00 am
I saw it in the smudges, the human architecture of desire and the freshly married, The optimistic decade closing winters of discontent years away I now love the malts of Islay peaty moments Iodine tasting antiseptic the water of life antiseptic the 2012 gambit Olympic lies and poverty spreadsheets as I peddle ever further to the fringes If I knew that in '69 I would have...  Read More
Apr. 7, 2012 5:21 am
It was an easy bargain, baptised in lies, confirmed and conformed in self immolation It was a harder life, than any of us thought A life lived in permanent rewind, constant recasting, cliches traded as truths, Unfortunate refugees, from the mouth of the critic, as he has another season in hell, in the teeth of his own dilemmas. We, I, never saw it, the utter pathos of it all, the...  Read More
Apr. 6, 2012 3:53 pm
I read the latest title excruciating prose misogyny personified I read the latest manuscript a joke without punchline irony or insight the deathless prose of the deluded terminally dull leaden weighted words paragraphs of self loathing sugar coated in ego sugar coated ordure mother's boy on the lam miles from the fictitious continent the continent of self solipsism between the...  Read More
Apr. 5, 2012 5:49 am
I daily summon his voice his brilliant litanies his energies the ones that I slough off in the unquiet slumber the doubting witching hours I daily bring back coruscating verse verse that he left behind verse that prove that we're not just spirits not just disappearing He lives on his words and deeds even if it's only my own queer madness that awakens the dead that perpetuates...  Read More
Apr. 5, 2012 5:45 am
Aye he shared a squat me and my brother and he shooting smack a one-off for me a one-off for my brother a lifestyle choice for him just as much as gifts from mummy Harrods hampers of luxury grub I never liked him neither did my brother he even managed to plagiarise our very experiences he was nothing but a dead-eyed copycat humourless deep and meaningless just like the novels he...  Read More
Apr. 4, 2012 7:13 am
The flies appeared on cue invading his living space assailing his ears and buzzing buzzing on cider and fear buzzing with words words of dread inspiring words Old Latin and New Greek Old Oxford days Ten years apart we were there ten years apart Oxford recasting Latter day Beckett moves Endgames In a Newcastle shelter miles from the old country of intent of where we should...  Read More
Apr. 2, 2012 7:43 pm
Meadow well, the scene of the riots of '91, still carrying the traceries of those days. The Major Years. The serried ranks of red brick and the air of self defeat. Decay from within, although the real story is decay foisted on a populace by the disease of hyper-capitalism. Young lads with the usual, healthy amount of testosterone and the energies of youth sup on tins of supermarket lager and have...  Read More
Apr. 2, 2012 7:40 am
We went to the seaside, recuperation Time away from prying proprietorial newsprint Billie was calm Bird carried his horn a faraway look of impending doom Me, I could only look on in disgust As history written by the victors came too bloody late to save this pair my musical saviours Tears blinded me as I left them Old albums discarded Coney Island October almost defeating ...  Read More
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