Ramblings of a...

The man had been wandering for months when he found it. He had left his village once the snows had cleared up. There had been nothing left for him there after such a cold winter, so he had headed south. It had not been an easy journey, but he had survived, hunting what he could, foraging when he couldn’t. He had gone days at a time without eating.
(Read More...)

9/31 in Flash Fiction Month

“Mum, don’t leave me alone with him!”
“Don’t be silly.”
(Read More...)

8/31 in Flash Fiction Month

“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” He said, stroking her hair softly.
(Read More...)

7/31 in Flash Fiction Month

“The Doors.”
“Eh, maybe. Led Zep”
“Oh yeah, definitely. The Beatles, or at least John Lennon.”
“Overrated. The Who.”
(Read More...)

6/31 in Flash Fiction Month

“To start I’d like a light garden salad with Honey Mustard dressing.”
“Very good. For your main?”
<(a href="http://nicktroptopolis.deviantart.com/art/Food-128340821">Read More...</a>)

74 words

5/31 in Flash Fiction Month

The girl that walked into the lift behind Gareth looked familiar. Very familiar. Intimately familiar, but he could not for the life of him remember her name. He knew he’d met her at a party some time the previous year, and he knew that she’d made very good pancakes for breakfast, but that was it. He was able to fill in the blanks somewhat, but her actual name was eluding him.
(Read More...)

4/31 in Flash Fiction Month

“Would you fetch the moon?” she asked, as they lay on the bed, staring out of the window.
He turned his head to look at her. “For you?” She nodded, “No chance.”
She sat up, pulling her fingers out of his grasp and glared at him. He pushed himself up into a semi-upright position, leaning back on his elbows. “What did I say?”
(Read More...)

3/31 in Flash Fiction Month

“Seaman Jones!” the sub-lieutenant barked. The whole desk fell silent, and everyone stopped what they were doing to look at what was going on. With half the men looking at their commanding officer, and the remainder looking curiously at their comrade, trying to see what Jones had done to earn this singling out.
(Read More...)

2/31 in Flash Fiction Month

“Come on!” Eloise hissed, “Come on, Come on, Come on!” punctuating each reiteration with a hard bang on the steering wheel, she glared first at the back of the car in front of her, and then at the traffic light, that seemed to have been on red for a full five minute.

(Read More...)

1/31 in Flash Fiction Month

The woman was slowly trudging through the snow, not faltering once, despite the fact she knew what was awaiting her over the next ridge. Though she was alone, it was only the biting wind that drowned out the prayers she was muttering; prayers to any number of gods, living or dead.

(Read More...)

The half empty bottle of Gordon’s on my bookshelf reminds me of you. I know you’re more of a Bombay person, but that’s besides the point. It’s not like I’ve got any of that, so you’ll have to settle for perfume, as you used to call it.

(Read More...)

I really want to be able to write something, but I can't.
In nearly 2 months, I've had just 2 ideas for stories. A woman making a long journey through the snow to find the secret to why the men close to her keep disappearing. And about a Lawyer who shares his office with his nephew's ice cream parlour.
That's it.
That, a crappy story set in the English Civil War and based upon Rembrandt's The Night Watch, and a short thing I scrounged from a longer piece I abandoned about death, that is based on a song, as far too many of my stories are...

It was early March the last time I wrote something I was really proud of, and even that was a silly little thing written in half an hour. I just can't come up with ideas. I read books by other authors, and think i want to write like them.
I know I'll never be as good a writer as Neil Gaiman or Michael Chabon, but I can't seem to get out of trying to imitate their styles.
I should also know better than to set stories, especially the beginnings of novels in Gravesend. Who the hell would want to read about that crappy town, and what purpose does that serve?

What's this? A post that isn't just fiction? When did that last happen?
Don't get your hopes up though. I just need to gush about the awesomeness that was the Metric gig I just got home from.

It was the most intense experience of my life. I'm normally pretty vanilla when it comes to live music. I sing and I whistle, and occassionaly clap, but I can't handle dancing, or even jumping around like a lunatic.
I now understand exactly why someone would go to a rave.
I danced
I don't know if it was the fact it was a small, underground venue, the fact I was only about a foot from the stage, or because I was half leaning against the main speaker stack, but somehow the four members of Metric managed to make more exciting music than the 9 members of the Arcade Fire. And that's saying something.
I have never seen anyone so happy to be playing me music as Emily Haines was tonight. Even when she fell off the stage, she kept singing at the top of her voice and smiling. During Dead Disco, she encouraged people on stage and hugged them and let them dance before sending them back. She is also completely crazy when she sings. Lots of jumping, head shaking, wild arm gestures and so on. To cap it all off, she's a pretty good dance instructor as well.
Even though she was singing as loud as she could, at times I could hardly hear her because the instruments were so loud. She also kept talking to us during instrumental segments, and I could not for the life of me make out a word of it, which was sad.
If there hadn't been a security person standing between me and the stage, I'd have got a high-five from her, and I think that would have been the only thing that could have made it any better.
Aside from maybe a rendition of Poster of a Girl, but you can't have everything. They did play most of the best songs from the earlier two albums as well, and it's not often encores consist primarily of old songs. Or indeed freebird reimaginings of power-pop ("or whatver the fuck people say to describe us") songs.

The most surprising thing was (which isn't really that surprising now I think of it) is the fact that the vast majority of the crowd seemed to be female. Or boyfriends who'd been dragged along by their other halves. The only other time I've been to a gig like that was Keane. Even Dashboard Confessional had more guys in the audience than Metric. Not a problem by any means, just surprising.

After it finished, I nipped back to my flat to get my copy of the cd and a sharpie, then headed back (it was only a two minute walk) to hang around outside in hopes of meeting them coming out. I waited for 15 minutes, then realised they'd just played a very exhausting concert for an hour and a half, and most likely wouldn't want disturbing by someone who, frankly, is not particularly interesting or conversational, so I came back home. If it hadn't just been me, I might have stayed, but never mind. Saved myself an inevitable embarrassment.

All in all, if you hadn't guessd, an absolutely amazing gig, and a brilliant start to my summer (my last exam of second year was this morning)

I'll probably follow this up with an actual update on my life sometime in the next week or so.
Maybe...

“Hurry up with those atmospheric checks man; I’ve got an awful case of cabin fever.”
“You’ve barely been in here two days.”
“We left home sixty years ago!”
“Do I need to explain light speed to you, again?”
“Gods no. Are you done yet?”
(Read More)

Alexander McClellan was awoken by the sound of someone rapping on the door of his cabin.
“There’s a fleet of Lievers showing up on the instruments cap’n. They’re moving quickly. Towards us.”
A moment after these words had sunk in, Alexander had rolled out of his bunk and was on the move. “Where are we?” he asked, pushing past the young man that had awoken him.

(Read More...)

If you were a revolting peasant,
One of those filthy treach’rous wretches,
Then I don’t think you’d be Wat Tyler,
Nor do I think you would be John Ball,

(Read More...)

Jousting, the noble chivalric sport of the middle ages has been re-imagined and improved for the twenty first century.
In days gone by, these noble competitors would have been introduced by heralds, singing of both their heroic triumphs in battle, and their honourable achievements of chivalry. Those eloquent men would have held the crowds rapturous, both the nobility in their grandstands and peasantry in the mud, all observers would be hanging onto the herald’s every word.

(Read More...)

Betjeman got it wrong:
“Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn”
Is no longer the sound of the trains.

(Read More...)

Nobody’s seen the sun for years
It never shines in London now
It only rains day in day out
The world forgets the once proud town

(Read More...)

That's right. It's a poem. I'm branching out a little

Laura was sitting at her desk, which was so new that no one had bothered to even peel the sticker off of the surface. After having spent an hour staring at her computer screen, she began to pick at it, occasionally looking up to see if anyone had noticed she had no idea what she doing here. Her cubicle was conspicuously only by its plainness. All the others that she had seen had been customized. Even if it was only a photograph of a person’s mother, it was still more interesting than Laura’s.
(Read More...)