So, say “yes.” In fact, say “yes” as often as you can. When I was starting out in Chicago, doing improvisational theatre with Second City and other places, there was really only one rule I was taught about improv. That was, “yes-and.” In this case, “yes-and” is a verb. To “yes-and.” I yes-and, you yes-and, he, she or it yes-ands. And yes-anding means that when you go onstage to improvise a scene...
Stories I Want To Write #1
That night, nobody on the bridge could have mistaken the scene for any but two things: a first date, or a last.
I cannot bear to leave facebook, so I dismantle it...
I can’t believe that peer pressure would’ve been the only thing at the time. It can’t have been - there’s plenty of peer pressure, to do all sorts of things, in the corridors and house parties and spare moments of university. I successfully waved away every drug except one: the intoxicant checking of my profile, day after day, sometimes hour after hour, to see if I popped...
Shabazz is an interesting musical entity. As I listen to Black Up, I find it hard to decide when I’m enjoying the aesthetic quality of the words, the concepts carried in the clauses, or both in the mushy mush with the beats. Who am I kidding? It’s just an excuse to put this gem of a video up. thelastexit: Shabazz Palaces - Black Up Dope album sampler video.
The TaleTorrent, part 2
Featuring @jnicholasgeist’s Zombie apocalypse slash night-on-the-tiles (a transatlantic special!), @simonsanders’ pen-pal to PM saga, @mananatomorrow’s cyberphilic daughter, and my experiences of chatroom courtship. Of a sort. Thanks again go to the @kinura guys for putting this up. Oh! And a message. It went wonderfully well, and many people asked if there would be another one...
The TaleTorrent, part 1
scroll right, apparently. Part One features @BetaRish and @mndtrythnkng’s ultimate answer to Facebook’s “What’s on your mind?”, @katylindemann’s True Confessions Of A Teenage Weblogger, @documentally’s 999-style car crash reenactment, and @claireburge’s paean to the gods of Serendipity.
Story: A Sort Of Charity Month
Oct 23rd, 2043. Wednesday. Met up with Max for coffee today. The streets of Ladbroke Grove are still smoking after what happened last night, but society has resumed its pulse almost immediately. It’s funny how adaptable this world has made the people of today. Though, perhaps adaptable isn’t the word for a people that absorb every crisis and then carry on with their lives as they...
I get on the replacement bus and
There’s something missing. The sun conspires with the Sunday to create a kind of easy peace, like a nurse: attentive, but not smothering. But that’s not it. The people don’t shift eyes and bodies for territory like bus people do, instead they blog and chatter in gentle sussurus… but this is not the cause either. The details count for nothing when there has been some...
The Taxi Driver Asks Me:
Have you been working late? Yes, I have. Do you know the way home? I confess, I do not. Have you lived in London long? Not long. Well, long in a way, but I know so little. Why do you not ask me anything? Because I have forgotten to be curious.
TaleTorrent: a night of internet stories
So the internet is all about like connections and communications between people and stuff, she said, which means that on the internet there should be a more diverse collection of human stories than anywhere else because you’ve got all these individuals with their hopes and fears colliding with each other like atoms in a bell jar slamming and spinning and bisecting each other in sweaty...