Blog

RESPITE

The stone is weeping. This is not a metaphor, much as I’d like it to be. No, the stone is literally weeping. The humidity’s gone got itself up again; the air reaching near equilibrium with the sluggish waterway across the road, and the moisture is seeping out of the fucking walls. Greetings from out here on […]

OFF MEDS

The frenzied, psychedelic chirruping of the frogs is silenced by a gunshot. And another. And then another. It is 9:22pm, twelve hours to the minute since the last report of gunfire echoed along this little stretch of the Delaware Valley. Greetings from out here in canal country, where things are getting stranger by the day. […]

PATRIOTS & PINHEADS

So it’s how many weeks on? Three maybe, and already the conversation raised by #GoodesGate has died in the wind, in the howling fucking gale of National Dog Days, more shootings in the US that have nothing to do with access to guns, and a host of stupidities issued by Peta Credlin, with her hand up […]

GENERATION Y(O)UTOPIA

It’s nice to live in the future. In this shiny new world, where more and more of the Flash Gordon gadgets of our childhoods (okay, not your childhoods, Gen Y. It’s not all about you ok. Jeez), where those portable Star Trek communication thingies and the fucking awful fashion sense (okay, it is about you, […]

CRYIN’ SHAME.

It started, as fights are wont to, with booze. More specifically, it started with martinis (one of the world’s classic cocktails and the booze hound’s classic blunders) on the upper level of the InterContinental Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco. It was no fight in the traditional sense, a thing of bloodied noses and leering, delighted […]

STAT.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, And all round the house, Not a creature was stirring, It was quiet as a mouse. Except the reformed alcoholic, Who’s on AWS, Who’s alone with the whisky, And … that’s the fucking end of that.   Thank Christ. Who the hell left the whisky within reach again? See what […]

(d)ROU XENOPHOBE

About this time last year, unfortunately as a result of a great loss to the human species, the untimely passing of Iain M. Banks, I started in on his Culture novels. It had been two decades at least since I’d read the first, Consider Phlebas, and a long time since I’d read any science fiction. […]