“Literature is a luxury but fiction is a necessity.” ~ G. K. Chesterton
I’ve just re-read the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman — which is, I guess, kind of a children’s story… but at the same time, it’s also extremely about killing God. A delicate balancing act.
To be totally honest, I’ve stopped short the conclusion of The Amber Spyglass — it’s sitting in my room bookmarked on the final chapter — because I’m afraid of the emotional collision I’m sure to experience when I finish it. Just like the first time.
The first time I finished it…
Since COVID-19, the world has changed, and while each country or region has collectively dealt with the virus in its own way, there are commonalities that can be observed in the ways that us regular folk have dealt with being locked inside our own homes indefinitely whilst slowly etching away at what was left of our already dwindling sanity.
Now, we all know that People™️ are a diverse crowd and that no one can be accurately pigeon-holed into one specific persona or set of characteristics and traits, especially with zero physical contact and based on social media alone. But where’s…
What really separates humans from zombies?
You know, aside from the whole being dead thing, zombies are a lot like us people: pack animals with zero sense of personal space wandering around aimlessly looking for flesh and brains.
Never has there been a time in humanity’s existence where this has been more apparent than right now, amidst the promise of an impending apocalypse.
Covid-19 has taken the world as we know it and flipped it right on its decaying head, and while our insides spill out into the aisle beside the barren sanitizer shelves in the local supermarket, we’ve all…
Arther Fleck started a joke, which started the whole world crying
No jokes, I think Joker might be my favorite movie of all time. Aside from the extreme levels of anxiety it triggered in my chest for all of its three hours run time, I haven’t felt that satisfied by a film in a long time.
A poetic collaboration with Kyle Solms.
You could live. But perfect pink is no fun, colours should bleed and run. First dark brown in birth, dirt fresh from the earth, Our veins sheathed underground, where the tunnels connect. You could hurt. Red is a rebirth, yellow for sunlight and stress, “Worry less! Take any path! You could drown in the bath!” Anxious antennae ousting cactus thorns candy spiralled in the sweetness of adolescence outreached, trying to tie the synapses into tiring knots. You could bleed. And like a swamp, you could stagnate in the staunch moss and stale stench, your…
The Night King? The Army of the Dead? Cersei Lannister? Danaerys Targaryen? David Benioff and D. B. Weiss?
Game of Thrones has come to an end and the internet has gone absolutely ham about it. The sprawling fantasy epic’s last season has been dubbed everything from a severe and utter letdown to a borderline offensive and total waste of one’s time.
There’s even a petition (with over a million and a half signatures at time of writing) to have the entire season rewritten and redirected, ushering in a brand new era of petulant and sanctimonious beserker fans whomst behave as…
Bits and pieces. Bumpy roads. Late nights, late mornings, late afternoon sets at Beach Bar. Meeting randoms in the Gamboozini common area and knowing their entire lives by dawn. Outbursts of indistinguishable anime dialogue. Laingsburg. Dangerously blurry nights up in the water tower. Another successful crowdfie. Tiger prawn evenings with the gang at Love Café. Jagermeister shots with literally the whole of Fernando’s. Kicking up sand on Pintos’ dance floor before spontaneously stripping down and floundering in the warmest, wildest riptide. Banana and caramel soft serve at Coconut Can. When Hail Governor turned into Cat & Mouse which turned into…
Despite what haughty music blogs named after multi-pronged farm tools might snobbishly spit into the online void in between sips of unicorn tears or whatever those people drink on the job, the new Alt-J album Relaxer is good. Better than good, it’s great, although I feel as if this statement needs a pretty obvious qualifier: it’s great, if you’re a fan of Alt-J.
So yes, if you’re gonna pitch up expecting anything other than a collection of chronically mellow tracks— or rather, ballads… soundscapes? …
Imagine a day with no news.
No old news or new news. Just nows.
No tales of corruption, scandal, death.
Only journeys, deep breaths, fresh air.
Zero existential despair.
Endless, anxiety-free freedom.
Nothing crooked nor bent.
Nothing shattered nor crushed.
Only a wholeness so whole it’s wholesome, it’s holy.
Could you imagine?
You’ll have to.
Massassi was sharpening her bone hunting knife when she first heard the screams from the river bank. Loud at first, sustained. Then shorter, more frantic. Then… gone altogether. Something was wrong.
It was a stifling evening in Chirundu Village. The villagers had already made their way to bed for the most part but a few still sat huddled around campfires in the leftover heat of the day, drinking and dancing in the bleak light of the rising moon.
“Rudo? Has anyone seen Rudo? Where is he?” Massassi shouted.
The bemused villagers, only slightly more alert for all the screaming, pointed…
How do I know what I think until I see what I say?