Category Archives: Fiction

I Can Hear the Sirens Coming

Later this week, Phonefinderoftheblogbeth and I will be taking a trip to Inverness. The capital of the Highlands is an interesting place for all sorts of reasons – I’d recommend taking a look at what Ian Wiki has to say about it here.

Nessie, hiding behind Inverness Castle. By Dave Conner.

[Find out more about today’s post by getting the Apoplexy Newletter here.] Continue reading I Can Hear the Sirens Coming

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Moon Hop

Phew! What a week!

16 April was the deadline for turning in my Spring semester portfolio. And of course Illicit Ink’s Apollo 21, co-starring Stroke Bloke, premièred the prior night at Edinburgh’s Royal Observatory on Blackford Hill. I’d like to think that Apollo 21 wouldn’t have been possible in its final, polished form without – in addition to great performances and writing by the whole team – the contributions of my super-talented Nerd Bait bandmates Steph the Brain and Professor Paul, who soundtracked the whole thing.

When I say it’s difficult to listen to this without crying, that’s a good thing. But don’t just take my word for it – thanks to 1 Proton 1 Electron for this lovely review.

[You can check out the rest of the soundtrack on Nerd Bait’s Soundcloud page.]

Continue reading Moon Hop

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The One With Chandler In It

When I was a teen bandaged heads scared me I read a lot of crime fiction. I wrote a book report on the granpaw of Scottish Noir, William McIlvanney’s Laidlaw. I read a bunch of Robert B. Parker’s Spenser novels. And I got into Parker because he was asked to finish the Marlowe novel, Poodle Springs. And I loved Chandler.

“Well, I do see The Whole Nine Yards as a continuation/commentary on the hard-boiled genre. Don’t you, Bruce?”

[More reflections in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter here.]

Continue reading The One With Chandler In It

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Who’s Afraid Of…

Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth and I went out to celebrate the birthday of one of my old undergraduate pals last weekend. He’s the last of the group, I think, the reach forty. He may have been presented with a Chuckle Brothers birthday cake, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a sobering experience.

…and a card signed by Ian Rush and John Aldridge!

[The Chuckle Brothers say,
“If you’ve not signed up for the apoplectic Tiny Letter, you’re missing out!”]
Continue reading Who’s Afraid Of…

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Time’s Arrow

For anyone who’s particularly keen to get an insight into this guy’s fear and frustration and confusion and claustrophobia during the early stages of stroke recovery, please sign up for apoplectic.me Tiny Letter distributions, if you haven’t already. I’ll be covering that today.

Twelve of these, with baseball bats; that’s what my stroke looked like. (Credit: Brooklyn’s Café Grumpy.)

But as Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth likes to say

It’s OK. We live in the future. He survived.

Continue reading Time’s Arrow

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Jacob’s Ladder

I’m still a wee bit of an American Stroke Bloke. In kind of the same way Martha Stewart is Scottish by sex.

She said it! Not me! To Craigie!

And yes, it’s still weird when the cheese triangles in Subway are “cheddar” and not “American”. And I still say and think “toMAYto”. But on the other hand, I was doing a crossword the other day, and got the following clue….

[Sign up for apoplectic.me alerts here. That’s where the revolutionary thinking is.]

Continue reading Jacob’s Ladder

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Aceeid!

Just before sitting down to write this post, I ingested a cocktail of diphenhydramine, guaifenesin and levomenthol.

It’s not as exciting as it sounds

[If it’s excitement you want, sign up for the apoplectic.me tiny letter distribution here.]

Yeah, the inside of my skull feels dry, but it’s not that exciting. I don’t think the cough syrup will trigger any incredible insights for the blog.

As it happens, I’ve never taken any psychedelic drugs, notwithstanding the convincing argument for their controlled use in the essay opening Ian MacDonald’s Beatles book, Revolution In The Head. Continue reading Aceeid!

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