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.


This Blog has no active categories.
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
Dec. 2, 2009 8:15 pm
" ...Just words tumbling from a careless mouth. I wished no real harm. I wish I hadn't pushed her. I wish we'd taken more care with the fare-thee-wells. The bus station was a glassed-in desert. The febrile run here had sweated all the anxiety out of the system, only for it to descend as I entered this transit zone. Two young cops approached as I nervously ran my fingers through my hair..." She...  Read More
Dec. 2, 2009 8:06 pm
Life was far from clean. I saw that as motes of dust reflected winter sun through my kitchen window. North-facing. Denuded treelines gave way to azure skies and for a brief moment I could see no basic flaws in nature. It could be the last time I ever feel this electric rush of connectedness. Or it could be the start of a new, cleansing opportunity. Either way, I was enjoying the moment.  Read More
Dec. 2, 2009 8:02 pm
As Gareth, of recently posted a micro-plot idea on his blog, I thought I might take up the challenge to write seven sentences based on ideas that I have had fulminating for the last seven day, like his A-Z idea, it's simple, elegant and focusses the mind. Thanks Gareth. 1. The business of penning hymns was inimical to a dyed-in-the-wool atheist like...  Read More
Dec. 2, 2009 7:48 pm
Purely as a response to my friend Gareth's last blog entry, I'm going to parley with my own selection of A-Zs Gareth's nice bundle appears at: . All your fault, Dr Rice! A. Asphyxiate B. Brobdingnagian C. Calyx D. Devilled E. Entropic F. Funereal G. Gerrymandering H. Hebephrenic I. Iconoclastic J. Jerry-built K.Klismaphilia L. Lactate M. Municifence...  Read More
Dec. 2, 2009 12:21 pm
Terminal Helsinki: “What happens when the wine turns to water?” the question hung in the grey ozone of Fredrikinkatu, an October day quickly darkening. McKay's rhetorical, self-defeating soliloquy over, Doogan shrugged and looked right and left looking for answers in the tramlines and passing pedestrians “Should I just kill myself now, then?” McKay's jaundiced eyes delivered the less...  Read More
Return to Main Blog Page
Latest Ebooks