Once described (by himself, no less) as a fine, upstanding peripatetic thirty-something wistfully anchored off the shores of a tropical nightmare, the author of a dancing star! is a struggling writer in agon with truthfulness. His prolific literary output was until recently channelled into an on-going phd thesis - entitled "On the trajectory of fate & the misgivings of philosophy", a hyperbolic title for a modest paper on the history and typology of salvation - and this site.


When not otherwise engaged in futile research and distracted from a truthful quest, he finds himself prowling the nether limits of the external world as well as the jagged terrain of his inner universe. His travels take him to parts of Africa where blue-helmeted UN troops fear to tread, the Middle-East, South-East Asia and Europe. The encounters are oft-times channelled into words, sometimes reproduced here. Those experiences that are not here, he is more than happy to consign to the bottom of the bottomless pit that is his memory.

On the occassional moments free from obligation, he boards an evening flight to Denpasar and surfs the weekend away on the waves off Seminyak. He has been smoke-free since the 6th of September 2005.

As a casually committed thirty-something, he has experienced his unfair share of Womankind. His chronicles of the post-adolescent / pre-adult single life is found elsewhere on this site (The Other Half). Aural pleasures are difficult to convey, so he chooses not to. His book reviews are found elsewhere on the site. According to Myers-Briggs, he is an INTJ personality type.

His sense of humour has been described as "Eggersian". Eggersian humour does not augur well for Encoupling.

He detests bullies, has developed a rabid anti-Catholicism, is extremely fond of well written books and obviously attracted to intelligent women, and is passionate about football.

In terms of philosophical perspective, he is essentially a Hegelian with a Weberian twist, having learnt his trade under the tutelage of Gillian Rose - to whom he owes his life - and Howard Caygill.

A cosmopolite, his favourite city is New York, in particular south of 38th Street.


All that was written circa. 2003-2005. Five years later, what's new?

Sometime ago, and I can neither point to the particular time nor what immediately occasioned it, I literally lost the knack of writing, whether about everything or nothing at all.

The multiple causes of this failing can perhaps be easily and adequately - one day, even "fully" - clarified, made clear and transparent to logical minds and kindred souls, but of more interesting consequence was the disruption of focused thought that it generated; without writing, it remained impossible to generate and maintain a critical, self-sustaining stance that, in the service of a substantial truthfulness, could make sense of contemporary life.

So here it is, a new start, on a new page; wish me luck.