all about oli

"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."
- Sylvia Plath.

Oli is a writer and creative currently primarily interested in the division of reality from unreality and how we define something entirely undefinable, exploring different states of consciousness and the desire for transcendence, the natural world and how it mirrors intense, crazy, fucked-up emotions of the type that are deemed abnormal in our every-day life, how far removed we are from our natural state, and anything and everything to do with glitter.

He currently lives in Oxford, where he is trying to develop some semblance of a real life.

He has been writing consistently since the summer he turned twelve years old, also known as when he first became touched in the head amongst stifling 2010s heat at a hippie retreat. Amongst the trees and hidden go-karts in sheds he became aware of the otherworldly, hallucinogenic figures residing and lurking close by, eager to jump on anything that showed a glimmer of awareness, and ever since they haven't left him much peace. As a result, he exorcises them via the written word. How true any of the previous is -- or how much he believes in it, and how consistent that belief is -- is entirely up to your own interpretation.

interimterminal was created as a name at a similar age, formed from an interest in duality, the permanent and final matched with the liminal, how both can be at once. After all, duality -- two states -- is never really real; even if your life is a sine graph, there are still infinite points on a circle. Within two states there are millions.

Aside from writing, Oli enjoys swimming, reading, biking, running (infrequently), climbing things that shouldn't be climbed, graffiti, compulsively posting online and then posting nothing at all for months, coloured bunting, the colour teal, glitter, indie sleaze, psychonauts, meditation, advanced astrology, hitchhiking, making an identity out of running a little faster than everybody else in a way that is allegedly detrimental to himself but certainly detrimental to his friendships, being far too raw and honest all the time and calling it art, peanut-butter-and-bananas on toast, halloumi, fresh fruit, nature, the Sun, the Moon, camping, silken textures, and art.

He identifies most strongly with electricity pylons, freight trains, car rides through the night, hummingbirds, glitter (again), fizzy or sour sweets, and dogs.

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