For some reason, I was thinking the other day that I’ve “only” ever been to France once.
And I was thinking, maybe I should try to fix that while I still can.
[My whimsy’s just about been extinguished, tbh. Find the last of it in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter] Continue reading Tour de France
We’re at the fag-end of August, almost six years after the moment that set off the series of events that would change Mrs Stroke Bloke’s and my life forever. But no doubt we’ll get to that in due course.
For now, the Edinburgh Festival has just finished and the smell of sulphur from the massive closing fireworks display that rattled our windows last night is fading.
[Check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, where the devil always has the best tunes.] Continue reading Where Are We NOW?
On the bus into Edinburgh’s New Town yesterday, I was reflecting on a short story I’ve been working on, a historical fiction about the Ross-shire Sheep Riots (also known as the – ten-day long – Year Of The Sheep). As the name suggests, it’s set in Scotland. My work tends to be set most often there, or in NYC, or in some imagined hybrid of the two.
Don’t worry – I’m going somewhere with this.
Check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter for a soundtrack while I wend my way. Continue reading Land Seer
I finished that bit on Le Corbusier, the godfather of Modernist architecture. When I said the bit would be more serious and more absurd than last week’s post, I was half-right.
Sure, some nuggets of truth are hidden among the 6m 40s of A Story Is A Machine For Living In, but there are plenty of nuggets of sweet absurdity to keep folks engaged.
This got me to thinking about how, sometimes, the medium is the message.
[Talking about absurdity, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter] Continue reading Gold Strikes
A couple of days ago, a teacher from London won $1MM as the world’s best teacher in the Global Teacher Prize.
Yeah, pay attention. You might just learn something. Today’s lesson: the arts and the art of surgery…
[For extra credit, check out the Apoplexy Newsletter.] Continue reading Doctor! Doctor!
When you’re a new parent, you find yourself thinking about sleep a lot.
As well as banging on about being a new parent all the time. But, yes. Sleep.
[Hey, you! Wake up & check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter. And read on for more sleep stuff.]
Continue reading Clonidine For The Masses
We pick up the story after our hero and key to the secrets of graphic design, logos, and intellectual property (Tristram Hunt, for it is he) has twice submitted his name unsuccessfully for selection as a Labour parliamentary candidate…
After being parachuted out of New Labour’s Milbank Palace into a safe seat in Stoke, the biographer of Engels and picket line-crosser spent five years slashing Labour’s majority before letting it be known that he would be giving up the seat at a time when the Labour Party and Jeremy Corbyn were at their most embattled.
[Can’t get enough of that PHWOAR!!! factor? Get your Apoplexy Tiny Letter here.] Continue reading Antepenultimatum III
After trailing a post on graphic design and democratisation last week, I received an interesting email on the subject of graphic design, logos, and sloganeering.
…perhaps the way to think about the democratization of graphic design isn’t to think about whether the act of creating a design is accessible to more people; but rather to think whether it is easier to spread.
[It’s easy to get more whimsy and fancy at the Apoplexy Tiny Letter] Continue reading Propaganda
A while ago, I interviewed Ian Rankin for The Fountain, in anticipation of the recent Rebus Fest.
Well, Hugh. Let’s see, shall we…?
[For more whimsy and less namedropping, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Is That All There Is?
Man, what a week.
In chronological order
[Check out the apoplexy newsletter for more knockabout fun.] Continue reading Tangents