I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don’t expect I shall return.

In fact I mean not to.

Oh Bilbo, I feel you. Alas that I should actually have a job I want but I am stressed out at the moment. My summer was spent in the aftermath of a break up.  My brother moved abroad. I am finally earning enough to have a plan to pay off my debts, but what this means is I am enduring the hardest part of a hill climb with the most mediocre stresses.

I know how to endure the unexpected, the horrific, the tragic but not the normal. This is unexplored territory for me.

I can do it, I just need a confidante and I don’t have that right now. So here I am posting into cyberspace, hoping to find some common ground – and praying that someone out there feels the same.

A little awareness





I’m giving up shop-bought new clothes for a month.

Over the last decade, 300 000 workers in India alone killed themselves, unable to keep up with the cost of running their cotton businesses as western brands demand ever cheaper clothing.

I could shop sustainably but I’m going on a clothes diet first. For one month, starting Friday 9th October I will buy no shiny new clothes from shiny shops and I hope you will too.

Please join me.

If you choose to, please repost this and use the hastags #consumerismKILLS and #fashionKILLS

We might not be able to travel to these people and physically help them but we can tell the fashion industry that we are not killers.

Save some money, save some lives. It won’t cost you a penny.

#consumerismKILLS #fashionKILLS #clothes #clothing #tshirt #jeans #cotton #mentalhealth #suicide #dress #skirt #ootd #fashion #highstreet #consumerism #murder

Please repost on any social media you like, wherever you like. Originally from instagram @sheatespiders.

Is there an echo in here?

I don’t understand why I have to bear
The man who wears a thousand masks
And digital lies to keep apart
Or maybe for him this is all art
And this is my cry
Because if I were a hundred percent sure
I’d ask you, instead I try
Send my thoughts into ether and persist
In my wish you could learn to just talk
I’d answer


But this is too much and too long
And I’m sorry if I do go on and on
But I’m talkative and you never do tell me enough
Or maybe you say all the wrong things
Or maybe I lack the courage and conviction to ask
To start with an outright question
Why do you do this? I don’t see any lesson
Is it obsession?

Copyright 2015 J N Ali


You think that I did not notice you
But actually as artfully as you thought you’d arranged yourself
Draped in front of a theatre
I wondered, ‘why are you here?’
I’ve become adept at ignoring shadows
Or things I don’t want to see
Or voices I don’t want to hear but continue to gnaw on my periphery
I’d ask you again why you were there
The truth is I couldn’t care less
That’s as good an answer as you’ll get

Copyright 2015 J N Ali


“Friendship is rare, do you know what I’m saying to you: friendship is rare.”
         ~Tenacious D

I am not the easiest person to be friends with. I’ll admit that.

Trauma has left me, well, less than trusting even of my closest friends. And for those who have actually hurt me….well my imagination runs riot and my voices just eggs it on.

So I am very, very cautious about people.

I actually don’t like cutting people out of my life. I don’t think anyone does, it’s unpleasant and someone can mean a lot to you and you still just can’t get it right.

Being prone to paranoia means I need people I can ask stupid questions without fear of embarrassment.  Ridicule I expect, in a friendly way, in fact it can make these little paranoias less frightening. My brother was excellent at that. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, called me psychic and laughed and I laughed too because I had to or I would simply cry. Or try to anyway.

A friendship (or something undefined but not unlike one through a carnival mirror) cannot live within set hours, times and patterns. I can’t live like that. I need to trust those close to me completely – it makes it very hard to meet new friends but my voices seem to have a natural mistrust of people and rightly so.

People are sh** and nothing you say can convince me otherwise.

At the same time, people can be wonderful. Just the right people. The ones who take your messaging TMI body issues or general crap 24/7 for what it is – love and trust (thank you wives, you’re beautiful.)

I get paranoid. I get anxious. I get insecure. I’m mostly okay – in fact better than I’ve been in years, I’m finally feeling like myself again but if you treat me like rubbish and expect me to forget it on top of working on my issues and also expect text and call on an unspecified timescale for which I am punished when I get it wrong, well honey, I don’t care how charismatic you are. I don’t care if you make me laugh. I don’t care if you’re f—ing gorgeous but I won’t deal with it.

So deal with that.

Reviled bodyparts pt.2

I called you many things
My dear thighs
And admittedly these allegations
Were not lies
But I’ve taken the time
To open my eyes
And I needed to say that
You’ve kept me upright
You’ve bourne so many burdens
Taken on my anxieties
And made them your own
I stand on these thighs
They walk, dance, jump
And soon they’ll run fast and long
I’ll treat you, squeeze you
Caress you, just please
If you reward my attention
With a little less water and fat retention
I suppose not is fine too
Thighs, I love you