The Gentle Violence of Obsolescence Vs the Thingness of Stuff (Part One)
Nostalgia is often described as a feeling, which flatters it enormously. Feelings are flighty. They arrive late, leave early, and can usually be distracted with a cup of tea. … Continue reading
The Treachery of Doors
Doorways are where time goes to hesitate. Not dramatically. Not with any particular flair. A small, almost polite pause, like a sentence without its verb, your inattention assumed. A doorway … Continue reading
When the Future Becomes Administrative
At some point, the future stops behaving like a direction and starts behaving like an obligation. This isn’t dramatic. Nothing collapses. There’s no moment you could point to later and … Continue reading
Haunted When the Minutes Drag 8: This is Not An Announcement
This is not an announcement in the conventional sense. There is no launch, no event, no expectation of participation. There is, however, a book. It exists because the thinking that … Continue reading
The Spiral: Six Attempts to Notice While the System Keeps Running 4
USER EXPERIENCE ISSUES IN BASE REALITY If we are living in a digital simulation, the first clue is not quantum weirdness, déjà vu, or the occasional pigeon that looks like … Continue reading
Haunted When the Minutes Drag 7
Recovery narratives rely on good behaviour from time. This happened, then that happened, and eventually things improved. The story moves forward. The arc resolves. Everyone applauds politely and goes home … Continue reading
Vikingr
I took part in a conference at The University of Portsmouth called “Mapping – Uncharted Territory.” My video piece contained three of the poems from my Shipping Forecast project – … Continue reading
England Underground
Like any other day, the sun rose not caring that the earth would steal its light, holding onto it like like a frenzied mother smothering her child. Not caring that … Continue reading
Silver Lining (Obligatory Covid 19 Poem)
Listen. The directionless monoxide retch of engines – quarrelling in sick arteries has quieted. Listen as animals call from traffic islands, twitchels and premium wasteland – unsure of … Continue reading
Bridge
Fat land, moss wadded, pushes against my feet, carrying me to the bridge; held in the scent of warm brine and red fescue. Swaddled by wind fingers, I … Continue reading
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