hello

Hi! I’m Dylan Harris, an Englishman with Welsh seasoning, living in the Republic, proud to be a technogeek, born a month before Sputnik flew. You’ve found my ‘who am I’ (I’m a bit too fond of the odd geek techno–pun, like that one).

I wrote this page to answer those people who occasionally email me with questions such as “Are you the Dylan who buggered me and some goats during heady days of spring ’24 in Ulaanbaator?”, or “I once met a preacher called Dylan who convinced me of the transcendental joy of darning socks—are you he?”. I don’t want to disappoint anyone by having to say no, so if you’re searching for a “Dylan”, and wonder if I’m him, check this blurb. And, er, no to both.

Anyway, dull details first: I was born in 1957, am a sartorial basket–case, and tend to have strong coffee and Marmite sandwiches for breakfast.

I’m an arts explorer, as you will discover if you take a look at my poetry, photography or music. My poetry does rather give away some of the more (and less) subtle aspects of my personality, which is why I’ve quoted it here.

Self-Portrait

Professionally, I’m a computer nerd, building software for whoever waves the most dosh in my face. I’m also fascinated by the sciences:

I remember
           as a child
standing on a pebble shore
watching ships
                      at sea
sailing
uncaring
over
     the edge
             of the world.
(from Expanding Horizons)

You have reached the obligatory list paragraph. Likes: real ale, wine, pubs, good food especially in Michelin–starred restaurants, science–fiction, Citroëns, current affairs, and self–conducted travel. Preferred composers and performers: Stockhausen (RIP), Birtwhistle, Xenakis (RIP), Beethoven, Reich, electronica, Schnittke, Pãrt, Adams, Peter Brötzmann, and many many more besides. Ironically, despite enjoying electronica, I detest clubs. You want another list? Alright, story tellers: Iain (M) Banks, Samuel R Delany, Vernor Vinge, William Shakespeare, I could go, on, on, on, ….

I was born in Burton–on–Trent, within sniffing distance of six breweries and the Marmite factory, which may explain something about my subsequent life.

prose

prose

arts & ego
dish dosh
© & licence

Hello!
CV
Why I’m Veggie
Living in Antwerp
Living in Luxemburg
respect

The Fox Inn

I remember peeking through the crack
of a half–closed door, looking down the hall,
when mother came back, crying.
                 
(from Angst Cycle)

My father died in 1964, when I was six. He had made some money, which my mother used for public school education for me, my brother and my sister. I attended Bedford School. I don’t know, and I’ll never know, whether this was the right thing, but I do strongly appreciate her effort and sacrifice. I was a difficult child. She died in the early 1990s.

I was bought up in a small village in Bedfordshire; I prefer to live rural. Like most village kids, I wanted to try the big city, so I went to college at Thames Poly (now Greenwich University) in Woolwich. After three weeks I realised the hype of London was utterly unmet by reality, but it took me eleven years of college and work to move on—completing my Computing Science course, failing to complete a postgrad, and—a small improvement—spending a few years in working and living by Runnymede under the prang of the M25.

But, here’s another contradiction, I’ve chosen to spend the next ten years living in conurbation.

moonshine fire cathedral
mechelse embleem
my goodbyeing purrtrips stone low doors
gloom loom

walk short emptiness
de markt
de grote markt
this wrong town too
i’ll rue depart

and heavyland target
are you
om kirke? te deum?
and the living AWK your reputation counters
your architecture states
am you error?
is ever am dragmove error?
ever’s
gaan?
error?
error?

Ik zal zien
                  (from Mechelen)

I used to adore politics, having got very active in the Young Liberals. For example, I lead the Young Liberal side of the merger discussions with the Young Social Democrats. That’s a long time ago. I’m now an inactive member of Open VLD. I really ought to join MR too, so I’m seen not to take sides.

Before Lavazza

I’ve been vegetarian since around 1980. I don’t believe in causing unnecessary suffering. I will not eat meat, fish, etc., whilst alternatives are available.

Clichés have it that all vegetarians are so thin that dogs mistake them for lamp–posts, which amuses me no end since, at 18 stone, I’m actually so fat that Norwegian whalers mistake me for a commercial opportunity. Anyway, I also exhibit curly hair, brown eyes, and such a dreadful clothing sense that my mother used to alternate between being in despair and being in stitches.

Fate has cursed me with a pretty nasty heterosexuality, quite opposite to the roots of my vegetarianism.

My lust, a violating fire of force,
can burn from silent calm in dark forlorn
to whims of torment striking out. A course
to deepest guilt, perhaps, but I was born
this way, and love this way, I must. That rare
courageous one, I seek, a phoenix from
the gulls, who gains her smaller death in fear
and suffered flames: we’ll share our burning wrong.
                 
(from Her Catching Eyes)

As I’m sure a cliché somewhere goes: you’re born the way you’re born; you accept it or go loopy.

So what am I up to? Current projects include:

  • publish some poetry collections. I want more control of the publishing terms than traditional publishers are willing to permit, so me and another poet are creating our own publisher, Wurm Press;
  • improve my French; I’m attending evening classes;
  • write a software product; it’s poetry software.

Well, that’s that, then. I hope you’re suitably impressed? Oh.

Well, in the unlikely event you want to contact me after this little one–sided chat, you should visit my feedback page.





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