Tag Archives: Writing

Pepys Show

Very occasionally I wish I were a detail-specific recorder of my daily life. Amongst his coded confessions of extra-marital affairs and snark-laden observations on the movers and shakers of his day, Samuel Pepys is a source of further cultural significance … Continue reading

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Telling Stories

I’ve been listening to stories via some podcasts on that internet thing they have now. Science fiction stories because that’s my jam right now. And has been since I was about nine. I like being read to: it fills the … Continue reading

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He Cites References, He Scores!

Modern Humanities Research Association. MHRA, if you want to refer to them without taking up so many syllables. It’s been a long time since I checked their style guide but spent maybe an hour this morning reading through some of … Continue reading

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Why Is Rodin Making A Sculpture Of Me?

Twenty years ago I learnt that it is just as fulfilling for me to wake up with academic considerations whirling around the front of my mind as it is for me to wake to a brain that wants me to … Continue reading

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Past Participant

I can’t remember the exact quote or who wrote it but I recently read a short passage that resonated with me for various reasons. It was a writer writing about writers and observing that while people of action must exist … Continue reading

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No poetic allusions today, my mind is troublingly prosaic. I’ve been troubled by my dwindling imagination for some time but felt as though I had an insight into why and wherefore just as I was dropping off to sleep last … Continue reading

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Never Simile At A Crododile

You know similes? When someone mentions a thing and defines it in comparison to a different thing? Like, for example, saying an early Spring is like premature ejaculation because it is sort of exciting but ultimately overwhelming and rather disappointing … Continue reading

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Man In A Thursday

There was once a man who lived in a Thursday. It was a small Thursday made from the leftover pieces of larger Thursdays people no longer wanted. The man was nothing if not thrifty, which is a weird expression if … Continue reading

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Write Turn, Clyde

Although I managed to get out to buy groceries yesterday I didn’t feel like I’d done anything more than drag my reluctant carcass to a dreary chore. When insomnia beat up on me all night I doubted Wednesday and I … Continue reading

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Eight-Size Foward

To sleep beneath contrarian skies, blind to the celestial ride for just a little while. It was not meant to enlighten but the sun broke through and the civil war of grey on blue is over. For now. One stumble-scuffed … Continue reading

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