privileged
ugly betty
how to look good naked: disabled edition
gok wan's fashion fix
gossip girl
the gilmore girls
everwood
will and grace
Saturday, 27 February 2010
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
my ten rules for writing fiction
1. if you haven't read 3,000 books you are not allowed to write anything
2. you have to buy a country cottage worth £450,000 before you are allowed to write anything
3. you have to have an IQ of 140 before you are allowed to write anything
4. you're going to be miserable and lonely and self critical and just suck it up ok and get on with it and get used to thinking constantly about yourself and making other people want to love you it's just who you are and you can't change it and it's part of your creative juices ok god
5. keep writing no matter how bad what you are writing is. keep writing forever and then fall over dead
6. whatever you do don't connect to the internet it is just soooooooo distracting
7. 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, repeat 3000x
8. never break your routine
9. be flexible routine
10. above all else be a great guy and go to loads of keg parties. don't forget you're alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2. you have to buy a country cottage worth £450,000 before you are allowed to write anything
3. you have to have an IQ of 140 before you are allowed to write anything
4. you're going to be miserable and lonely and self critical and just suck it up ok and get on with it and get used to thinking constantly about yourself and making other people want to love you it's just who you are and you can't change it and it's part of your creative juices ok god
5. keep writing no matter how bad what you are writing is. keep writing forever and then fall over dead
6. whatever you do don't connect to the internet it is just soooooooo distracting
7. 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, 2 hours work, 2 hours sleep, repeat 3000x
8. never break your routine
9. be flexible routine
10. above all else be a great guy and go to loads of keg parties. don't forget you're alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
experimental writing
David's flat isn't a great place to relax. He is tired after the day. He is emotionally and physically tired after a long and tiring day which involved a lot of thinking about his methods as an artist. He thought a lot about the way he has developed over the years.
He thinks that he has not developed over the years.
David walks from one side of his modern kitchen to another and then he walks back to the other side.
He walks back and forth many times.
He is thinking about the past. These thoughts were provoked by his experiences on this day, with Susan, in the corner of the studio.
David moves into his bedroom. He lies down for a second. He lets his hand drop down beside the bed and then he hauls his whole body over the side of his bed so that he is lying on the floor. The floor is wooden.
He reaches under his bed and fumbles around for a while, trying to find something. He carries on fumbling. He can't find what he is looking for so he begins to crawl under his bed, head first. He thinks, 'God.'
It must be dusty under that bed. It never gets moved and nothing ever moves inside it.
After around twenty seconds of commitment David emerges from the bed. He is holding a tray of what look to be tiny cassette tapes. He moves around so that he is sitting with his back to the bed.
The tapes are all marked. They each have a date on them as well as a few words of description. The descriptions are things like, David and Norman on Women, David and Norman on Tourism, David and Norman on Beauty, etc. The descriptions are written in small, scratchy, black, upper-case handwriting. The tapes are carefully stored in historical order. The dates on the tapes are all over ten years old.
David looks through the tapes until he finds a tape that's description says 'David and Norman – Smoking'. He takes the tape out of the tray and ejects it from its container. There is a small voice recorder in David's bed side table which he puts the tape into.
David sits still at his desk and presses the play button on the voice recorder. The sound of almost silence plays from the small speakers of the recorder. It sounds like someone breathing out softly, forever.
David sits at the desk and removes a large cigar from his pocket. There is the sound of a lighter clicking into flame on the recording. David echoes the recorded action in real time. He smokes. He tries to breathe in and out very quietly so that he can hear the recording as clearly as possible. He wants to hear every tiny nuance and fold in the sound. He feels like a detective, pouring over case notes. Every now and then, he feels like he hears someone inhaling particularly ferociously and he feels happy. He feels like with the aid of this recording he can remember each individual breath and sucking in of smoke. He is thinking that he can remember exactly how it felt to breathe the smoke in on that particular day and how his body felt and where he was sitting in the hut and exactly what he could see from his eyes and the tiny subtle sounds he could hear with his ears. His memory of that time feels so utterly complete. He thinks that the memory of that time is the most important thing in his life. He thinks about Norman.
He thinks that he has not developed over the years.
David walks from one side of his modern kitchen to another and then he walks back to the other side.
He walks back and forth many times.
He is thinking about the past. These thoughts were provoked by his experiences on this day, with Susan, in the corner of the studio.
David moves into his bedroom. He lies down for a second. He lets his hand drop down beside the bed and then he hauls his whole body over the side of his bed so that he is lying on the floor. The floor is wooden.
He reaches under his bed and fumbles around for a while, trying to find something. He carries on fumbling. He can't find what he is looking for so he begins to crawl under his bed, head first. He thinks, 'God.'
It must be dusty under that bed. It never gets moved and nothing ever moves inside it.
After around twenty seconds of commitment David emerges from the bed. He is holding a tray of what look to be tiny cassette tapes. He moves around so that he is sitting with his back to the bed.
The tapes are all marked. They each have a date on them as well as a few words of description. The descriptions are things like, David and Norman on Women, David and Norman on Tourism, David and Norman on Beauty, etc. The descriptions are written in small, scratchy, black, upper-case handwriting. The tapes are carefully stored in historical order. The dates on the tapes are all over ten years old.
David looks through the tapes until he finds a tape that's description says 'David and Norman – Smoking'. He takes the tape out of the tray and ejects it from its container. There is a small voice recorder in David's bed side table which he puts the tape into.
David sits still at his desk and presses the play button on the voice recorder. The sound of almost silence plays from the small speakers of the recorder. It sounds like someone breathing out softly, forever.
David sits at the desk and removes a large cigar from his pocket. There is the sound of a lighter clicking into flame on the recording. David echoes the recorded action in real time. He smokes. He tries to breathe in and out very quietly so that he can hear the recording as clearly as possible. He wants to hear every tiny nuance and fold in the sound. He feels like a detective, pouring over case notes. Every now and then, he feels like he hears someone inhaling particularly ferociously and he feels happy. He feels like with the aid of this recording he can remember each individual breath and sucking in of smoke. He is thinking that he can remember exactly how it felt to breathe the smoke in on that particular day and how his body felt and where he was sitting in the hut and exactly what he could see from his eyes and the tiny subtle sounds he could hear with his ears. His memory of that time feels so utterly complete. He thinks that the memory of that time is the most important thing in his life. He thinks about Norman.
REJECT X 1,000,000
hey great guys. Please have a look at Rejection Digest. the first edition is on-line now and i am very pleased with it. i hope you all like it.
don't be ashamed of yourselves/me.
don't be ashamed of yourselves/me.
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
rejection digest
this is an experiment i am undertaking with crispin. have a look here and let me know what you think. please submit as much as you like.
i wonder whether this will take off.
x x x
i wonder whether this will take off.
x x x
threat
There are two people sitting under the gazebo next to the car park. They are both drunk. I am walking back from the supermarket and I have two bags with me. They are full of booze, crisps, chocolate, dipping sauces, cured meat and French cheese.
As I approach the two people I think, 'Please don't say anything to me.'
One of the two drunk people burps and then sneezes. He burps again. He drinks more of his strong beer and then burps.
I am very near them now.
The man who was burping slowly turns around. He is looking at me and standing aggressively.
He says to me, 'Party in number 41 tonight?'
I live at number 41. I try and smile at the man, but it is difficult when I am so scared.
As I walk into my home, I can feel the blood pulsing around my body.
I pace around for a while, thinking about the people.
For the whole night I sit up in my bed, unable to sleep. I think about the two people waiting outside my home. Waiting to follow my every move.
My groceries remain, uneaten, on the kitchen table.
As I approach the two people I think, 'Please don't say anything to me.'
One of the two drunk people burps and then sneezes. He burps again. He drinks more of his strong beer and then burps.
I am very near them now.
The man who was burping slowly turns around. He is looking at me and standing aggressively.
He says to me, 'Party in number 41 tonight?'
I live at number 41. I try and smile at the man, but it is difficult when I am so scared.
As I walk into my home, I can feel the blood pulsing around my body.
I pace around for a while, thinking about the people.
For the whole night I sit up in my bed, unable to sleep. I think about the two people waiting outside my home. Waiting to follow my every move.
My groceries remain, uneaten, on the kitchen table.
short story
i have a very smart looking short story up at pangur ban party.
you can find the story here.
hope you like it.
you can find the story here.
hope you like it.
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
for every year
hi massive collection of doting and loving fans and great guys who love everything i have ever done and will ever do regardless of how good it is because it's me who made it!
i have something up at 'for every year', crispin best's insane collection of stories.
you can easily check it out by clicking here
i hope you like it!!!!!!!! x 100000000
i have something up at 'for every year', crispin best's insane collection of stories.
you can easily check it out by clicking here
i hope you like it!!!!!!!! x 100000000
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